In My Mother's Footsteps
by StandUpToCancer
Summary: One was lost, wondering about the mother she never knew. The other was finding herself, looking to the life she could have had. Futurefic. Read & Review. Minor Loliver, MileyXOC, JacksonX?
1. Chapter 1

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter One**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"_One more push," dad told me. "Hang in there baby girl, just one more." I clutched his hand, grasping for support, praying that he was right. That this torture - this nightmare - would soon be over. He took the warm towel off my head and replaced it with a new cool one that was a shock to my system. It jolted me to reality, to the moment._

"_Come on," Jackson whispered in my other ear, squeezing my hand. "You can do it Miles."_

_The pain burned, bringing me to tears and hysterics. In the past minutes I had cried, screamed, and cursed. I had said I would stop, that I couldn't go any further, but they had pressured me into pushing again. And now, here was the moment. The final second that this baby was all mine, and no one else's._

"_Ready?" The doctor asked. I nodded. "And go. Ten." The pain was more intesnse then before. "Nine." I felt like I was being split into two. "Eight." Please, God, let it stop. "Seven." I screamed, shrieked, moaned. "Six." Something loosened, uncoiling within. "Five." Again the pain. "Four." Her voice was higher pitch. "And . . ." the pain disappeared. "Here's your baby." As the pain released a weight warm weight was dropped on top of my stomach. I heard a cry._

"_Girl or boy?" I panted, clutching the small body._

"_See for yourself." The doctor told me as she clamped something on to the baby's cord. I couldn't lift up the body – it was too fragile. Surely I would break him or her. Dad carefully lifted it up, announcing to the room that it was a little girl._

"_Charlotte," whispered a voice to my right. "Charlotte Rose." A woman stepped into my view, wearing loose jeans and a touristy Malibu, CA sweatshirt. Her eyes were locked on the baby as she extended a hand, placing it on the small body. "She's beautiful." _

_The man behind her nodded, "she's perfect," he agreed. "And you were great," he told me, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Thank you so much."_

I jolted awake, the dream – so real – fresh in my mind. Immediately I grabbed my cell off the end table and called Jessica. Less then a minute later her voice came through the speaker, groggy from sleep. "What?" she asked.

"The dream, it came back. Again. It has to be a sign Jess, it has to mean something."

"You're loopy." She accused.

"Jess," I begged, "come on, it can't be a coincidence that we're less then thirty minutes away from them when I get these dreams. Its fate, God, whatever - telling me that I have to find her. That she wants me to find her."

"Miley. Take a breath. In. Out." I breathed in and out. "Now listen to me. It's just a dream."

"But Jess-"

"A dream. That's it. Now, it's only three in the morning and you really need your beauty sleep, as do I. Turn off your phone, go to bed, and we'll discuss this in the morning if you even remember it."

"Fine." I sighed, slinking back under the covers.

Good night Miley." Jess chorused.

" 'night Jess." I chanted, slamming the phone shut. Before I nodded off to sleep, however, I pulled over the hotel-provided stationary and pen, jotting down _Charlotte Rose Morgan_ on the paper so that I wouldn't forget.

**Charlie**

English Assignment: Write about your family. Explain each person's personality, hobbies, and relationship to others. Who gets along, and who doesn't? What are each person's responsibilities? You may use first person. Include pets. Due: First class after Spring Break.

_I never met my biological parents. All I know is from what my adoptive parents told me in a letter that I received after their death in a car crash. I know that my parents lived in Malibu, California, although my mother moved to Tennessee shortly after she began to show. She had family there and finished out her high school career in Tennessee before giving birth, signing the adoption papers, and moving back to Malibu. She gave me her brown, curly hair and round face, but not her ability to sing, although they told me she had a beautiful voice. My father, whom they never met but knew of from her, gave me his brown eyes and shy nature, but again did not grant me his musical ability, which in his case was rapping. I do not know much else about them, except that they were friends, but never dated. I wish I knew more about them._

_My adoptive parents were hand-chosen for me by my biological mother. Their names were Marcus and Natalie Morgan, and they lived in Northern Virginia. My father was a lawyer, while my mother owned a small used bookstore that I loved to play in. They were just about to adopt another child when they got into a car accident. Orphaned at the age of six, I was thrust into the foster care system. Since then I have been moved to four different families until, three years ago, the Nathans took me in and officially adopted me._

_Today I live with the Nathans in Maryland, their two biological children and three others who they have also adopted, and all of whom I consider my family . . . _

I put my pen down and took a deep breath. Did I really want to recount this right now? No. No, it was painful and it always would be. Thinking of my real mother made me curious as to who she was, and what led her to give me up. But I would never know her, because it had been a closed adoption. Remembering my adopted parents was painful. My memories of that time were fairytales. I had loved the tiny bookstore. When an old too-tattered book came in mom would let me rip it to shreds. I learned to read using an old donated set of "Bob Books" she found, and spent hours lying in the children's corner alphabet rug, trying to sound out the clear, round letters that confused me. It had taken a year for me to be fully convinced that they weren't coming back for me. I insisted that they had only left to pick up my new brother, and were delayed in returning.

The memories of my many foster families were the most painful. I had little memory of the first one. I stayed there for a year and a half, and they had so many little kids that all of it seemed like kindergarten to me. The second family, the Johnson's, were a kind family living in D.C. They began fostering just after their last kid moved out for college, and I was their first. They doted on me, buying new toys and trying to help me fit in. But after the last family I had hidden in my own little shell and despite their best efforts was not to be pulled out. I was moved to the Carter's just after my ninth birthday. They had many foster kids and one, an older girl named Clair, took me under her wing. She sheltered me from what I knew then to be the random shouting and moans of pain that came across the thin bedroom walls. While the other girls developed bruises I learned to care for myself from Clair, who gave me fake bruises with dark make up so that no one suspected a thing. My only other friend there was Naomi, an eight year old I roomed with that Clair could not save. Where I was just another kid to the Carters, Naomi could not be hidden because of her distinctive coppery curls and bright green eyes. By the time the state shut the Carter's down Naomi was deep into the third trimester of her second pregnancy at Mr. Carter's hands but otherwise deathly thin.

She was moved to a home for teenage mothers outside of Baltimore, while I was introduced to the Nathan's. Thinking of her and all the other kids at that house who suffered brings tears to my eyes. Why was I saved? I know for a fact that she was not the only one sent to that home. That three of the older girls, including Clair, are struggling to make it outside in the real world, having aged out of the system. Many of the younger kids moved on to better homes, but not as good as the one I was sent to. I'm always asking myself _why_. Why was I saved from the Carters? Why did my mom give me up? Why didn't my dad know about me? Why was I put in a great foster home and not the others? And why did I waste the promising future they were setting out for me in exchange for one night at a party that I was too drunk to remember?

**Author's Note.**

Hope I caught your attention. Lots of mystery and figuring things out to come! Keeps a lookout for a new chapter coming your way!

BTW- Who should Miley date? Any suggestions!?


	2. Chapter 2

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Two**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

If it wasn't clear before I just want to mention that this is about 15 years in the future, Miley is 32, Charlotte is 14. Other ages follow accordingly.

**Miley.**

"Miley!" A fluff of white ran forward, wrapping me in a bear hug.

"Hey Lils" I said, laughing. "Can I see this fabulous dress I've heard all about?"

"Right." She stepped back, letting me take in the sight of her. The dress was white, the fabric pulled across to her right side where it met a spreading cluster of silver-glitter flowers that were also on the upper part of the dress. It flowed down to meet the floor. Elegant but simple and trendy, it fit her perfectly. "What should I do with my hair?" she asked, leading me over to a lighted vanity. There were an assortment of pretty hair clips and pins waiting to be used.

"Curl it." I told her. "Just using a curling iron and put in a couple of these." I gestured to a pile of small, sparkling clips.

"Can you do that?" She begged, "I'm so nervous I'd drop it and burn myself!"

"Sure," I said, "Just let me get my dress on."

_**Two hours later**_

"How does it feel to be married?" I asked, linking arms with Lily as she entered the ballroom.

"I wouldn't call myself an expert." She joked. "I don't know, how about great? Fantastic? I get to spend the rest of my life with the man I truly love! How else would I feel?" She was bouncing, jumping, twirling in happiness.

"I don't know, I guess. Happy's a good word for it." I agreed

**Charlie**

"What's got you so down?" Jennifer asked, placing her hand on my shoulder. Jennifer Lauren was my older sister, James and Lisa's biological daughter. She was the oldest in the family, a school-spirit loving cheerleader who had, originally, not been so pleased when her parents took me in. Since then we'd grown into a mutual respect – we normally didn't talk, but if one needed the other we were always there to talk.

"Just tired." I told her, playing with my name card. It was a thick cream-colored piece of paper with my name written in a golden script. Underneath was my table number – nine, with the rest of the Nathan's kids and a couple other cousins of the Oken's. We were at the wedding of Lisa's older sister's oldest child, a thirty year old man named Oliver. I had met him on two other occasions before and he – and his fiancé – seemed nice enough. But apart from the Nathan's I knew no one at the party, and I was bored.

"Okay, party pooper." She said before running off to talk to Oliver's younger sister, Molly. I put down the card as the lights in the room dimmed, focusing a soft spotlight on the dance floor and adjoining stage. A woman stepped onto the stage – the maid of honor. She looked familiar, but I couldn't quite place her.

"This is for the bride and groom. You two are the best friends a girl could ask for, and I can't say I didn't see this coming when we met in seventh grade. Even then you were inseparable." She sat down on a stool on stage, settled her dress, and waited for the music to start. "From this moment life has begun," her voice was beautiful, reminding me of how well my own mother supposedly sang, "from this moment you are the one." She looked the right age; either in her very late twenties or very early thirties. She had dark hair and tan skin, the exact same color as mine, except that my own hair curly, while hers lay in gentle waves. She had a Tennessee twang to her voice, as if she had grown up in the south but moved away when she was older, losing part of the accent over the years.

Oliver and Lily glided onto the dance floor, twirling and I watched them move with all the grace of an elephant, but loving every moment of it. That must be what love is, making a complete ass of yourself with another person, and having the best time in the world doing it. If only Tommy and I had that.

When the song ended the woman walked offstage, handing her microphone to Oliver.

"Everyone give it up for our best friend Miley Stewart!" So that's where I knew the face. Miley was famous – originally as a popstar under the name of Hannah Montana. Five years ago she admitted that it was a lie, and began her life as herself, beginning a career in country music.

**Miley.**

I looked out on the crowd as I sang. Most of the people were ones I knew, vaguely. One face, for whatever reason, stuck out to me. It was a girl in her early teens, no older than fourteen years. She was plain, but pretty. Her hair was a crinkling chocolate brown, with matching eyes. She looked a bit sad, a bit wise beyond her years. In my head I did the mental math. My own daughter would now be about her age. I knew she had brown curly hair, as that was both mine and the father's natural hair. Her eye color, however, I didn't know. While I had green-blue eyes his were a warm brown. When she'd just been born her eyes had been the most startling blue, but then again, many babies were born with blue eyes that later faded into brown.

**Charlie**

That evening I stood in my room, alone. I had stripped off my party dress hours ago in favor of my school sweats and an oversized Britney Spears Concert shirt. On my bed was my suitcase, almost full. It was large, red, and empty. My clothes and other essentials were scattered on my bed, waiting to be packed. Folding everything carefully to make the most of each nook and cranny, I placed in a few basic t-shirts, mainly the shapeless unisex kind. Next to this I placed a few pairs of pants, mainly sweats. After that I pushed in two nicer outfits and a few small treasures that I owned. After putting in my sneakers, flip flops, undergarments, and toiletries, I still had a little bit of room. This was filled by my remaining shirts and one sweatshirt. After forcing in two towels and a wash rag I forced the zipper around, almost unable to finish. Trying not to make a sound, I pulled the bag back into my closet and turned to my backpack. I had two notebooks, a new set of mechanical pencils with lead, a few pens, my cellphone, iPod, and camera and their respective chargers. In the front pocket was my wallet and I.D. The remaining space held snacks, imperishable granola bars and backs of chips, a few sacred pieces of chocolate and three packs of my favorite gum. The trip in front of me wasn't very long, but I had to be prepared for anything.

Place the backpack beside the suitcase I clambered back into bed. Tomorrow, I would make my escape.

**Author's Note.**

Intrigue. Muwahaha.


	3. Chapter 3

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Three**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Please, please, please, please, PLEASE?" I begged. Jess sighed, shaking her head.

"Miley, why are you putting yourself through this?" she asked, "Why not forget it, and let her go on living her life. From what you told me about the couple I see no reason that she would be unhappy."

"Why wouldn't she be happy with me?" I asked, offended. "Why couldn't I be a better mother to her? I mean, I couldn't back then – not when I was still in high school, or putting myself through college – but now I could be. What teenager wouldn't want to go around living their normal hum-dee-dum live wishing she knew her real mother, and then find out that her mom's famous. I could give her everything."

"She probably has a life, Miley." The thought had never occurred to me. Of course I'd assumed she would have friends, but I had always thought that she would be willing to give them up for me. What would you choose – living with your famous ex-popstar mom in Hollywood going to award shows and movie premiers, or your friends? "Maybe she has a best friend named Abby and they like to paint their nails and talk about boys together every Friday night. Maybe she's a cheerleader with a football-playing boyfriend. Maybe she's in show choir, using the musical and dancing talents she got from you, just waiting until she's old enough for American Idol so she can make it to the big time. Maybe she's happy."

"You can't base your life on maybe's." I reminded her. She laughed, it was the title of one of her own songs.

"Fine, I'll call the limo and we can go to their house. Just quit the dramatics, please."

"Yay"

**Charlie**

The bus was smelly, full of seats with broken covers spewing foam like blood from a bad cut. There weren't many people. In front were two old men, talking about a golf game. Two rows behind them a woman ten years younger was checking them out, her oblivious fully grown daughter beside her, pegging away at the shiny crackberry. In the back was a young woman, a little above college age, with three kids. One of them, he looked to be about four, was slipping between seats, trying to get all the way to the front of the bus without his mother or the driver noticing. Another, a girl about of about two years, was standing in her seat, holding on to the back of the chair for her life. Her mother, who was holding the youngest child, a baby, in her arms, looked tired. She kept closing her eyes and sighing, like she was gathering all her patience. I wondered if I would be like that in a few years, or maybe a few months.

The bus slammed to a stop, jolting the little girl and knocking her legs out from under her. She cried as I stood, gathered my bags, and left. In front of me was a town house, one of four disguised to look like a large house to blend in with the near-mansions beside them. I turned to knock on the door of the one on the middle left. I rang the doorbell and prayed that Aunt Clair was home.

**Miley.**

The door in front of me opened, and I was surprised to see an African American man opening the door. The Morgans were white.

"Can I help you?" He asked kindly.

"Yes, I'm looking for the Morgans." I said. Maybe he was a friend, come to visit? An uncle?

"You mean the people who owned this house eight years ago?"

"I guess." I told him. "Although I never knew that they moved."

"They didn't," he sighed, gesturing for us to come in. I stepped into the foyer as he closed the door.

"Who was at the door, honey?" A woman asked, walking into view.

"These two women are looking for the Morgans." He said.

"Oh." She sighed, turning to us. "I'm sorry, the Morgans died in a car crash more than eight years ago." What? My baby, dead? It couldn't be.

**Charlie**

"Hello?" Clair asked, looking at me, "Is that you, Charlotte?" I nodded, and her face broke out in a contagious smile. "When did you get so big?" She asked, hugging me. "I would have sworn you were shorter then me last time we met, and now look at you!" She stared at my face for a moment before looking at the bags beside me. "And what is all this? Running away, are we?" I blushed. "Come in, come in, let's discuss this shenanigan over some hot chocolate or something. It's still much too cold out, I don't see why the weatherman says it's springtime!" She ushered me inside, pulling the suitcase herself. "Drop your stuff and come up with me." She ordered, dragging me upstairs to her small, quaint kitchen. In only a few seconds she pulled out a batch of home-made cookies, already half eaten, placing it on the table. "Milk? Water? What would you like to drink sweetie?"

"Milk would be great, thanks." I told her, taking half of a cookie, but not eating it. She bustled around the kitchen, pouring the milk and checking the clock before setting the two glasses before us and sitting down across from me.

"So, what sent you all the way down here to Virginia?" she asked, soaking her cookie in milk.

"I ran away." I mumbled, breaking my cookie again.

"Well, I can see that." She said, exasperated. "Now stop mumbling and tell me what happened to you."

"Tommy and I got into a fight." I told her, "I need some place to cool off for a while before I see him again."

"And Tommy is . . ."

"My boyfriend." I confided. Well, it was the truth. It just wasn't the whole story.

"Now you did not come running all the way to me just because of a little boyfriend trouble. Tell me what's bothering you or I'm going to send you back in two seconds."

"We did get in a fight." I told her. "A big one." She seemed to soften up, realizing that this wasn't some petty teen problem.

"About what?" she asked, her voice a little softer.

"The baby."

**Charlie's Letter**

_Dear James and Lisa,_

_I love you very much, but can't live in your house any longer. Tommy and I are in a big fight and I needed to leave before it got worse. Please don't try to find me; I'm in a safe place. Know that I'm not doing this to hurt you, but to save you from hurt._

_Much Love,_

_Charlotte Rose Morgan_

**Author's Note.**

Ooo. Fun. Tell me your thoughts, feelings, etc.!


	4. Chapter 4

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Four**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Why didn't you tell me that my baby was dead?" I screamed, slamming my fist against the oak desk. "She's my daughter for God's sake; I have a right to know whether she's dead or not. It was an open adoption; I should have been notified immediately! What is wrong with you people that you wouldn't tell me that my daughter, my own flesh and blood, died in a car accident?"

"Miss Stewart," the woman cut across. "I do not know why you weren't notified. I understand that this is very upsetting but if you'll just calm down I'll look into our database to see if there were any surrounding circumstances, okay?" I sat, seething, in the uncomfortable chair. Why are chairs that you sit in, waiting, always so uncomfortable? Is it to make you anxious, or nervous? But why would you want to set someone on edge like that? Behind me, Jessica took her own seat. Through the back of my head I could feel her watching me, willing me to calm down and consider my actions.

"Miss Stewart, your daughter is not dead." Mrs. Brady announced, "Marcus and Natalie Morgan were killed in a car accident almost eight years ago, but Charlotte is still alive. She's a foster child now, living in one of our best homes. I'll write down the address for you, if you'd like."

"That would be great," Jess said. I was in too much shock to speak. She wasn't dead, she was alive. Alive and well, it sounded like. Mrs. Brady handed me a scrap of paper with an address on it.

"I hope you find what you're looking for," she said.

**Charlie**

I met Tommy just over a year ago at a friend's party. It was innocent enough; top forties music, un-spiked punch and potato chips. We played on her Wii and gossiped, every now and then someone would get up and dance for a while. I didn't notice him at first, too interested in a conversation about our horrible Biology teacher, Mrs. Irwin. No, it wasn't until he got up to get some chips, and brushed my knee on his way. I looked up, and immediately was lost in his baby blues. He smiled, apologizing, and moved along. On the way back he brushed me again, but on purpose. Throughout the night I looked over at him, and every time I did he was grinning. When the evening came to an end he asked me out, and I said yes.

Six months later we were at a party. This one had alcohol and pulsing, sexual music. At first I didn't realize that I was drinking alcohol. I thought it was just a weird flavored punch. Soon I wanted more, and more. I can't remember much after that. I know that Jennifer covered for me and brought me home, but that's as far as I know.

I missed my next period, but didn't worry. It was midterms week, and I was under tons of stress.

I missed it the month after, but chalked it up to an irregular cycle.

But after the third month, March, I could no longer ignore the signs. I was getting headaches, and every so often felt nauseous. My stomach was bulging just the slightest bit, only noticeable to me. My moods were changing – I craved weird food combinations and was more hungry than I had been a month before. Clothes fit me differently. I took two tests and confirmed what I already knew twice over. I bought new, looser clothes and elastic-y-pants. I tried to control my mood swings, detract attention from nausea and headaches. I had a small collection of snacks beneath my bed, so that I could eat more without anyone noticing. I bought a book on pregnancy and wrapped it in a brown bag cover, labeling it as a Science textbook. I read up on what was happening, what to expect and when. That was when I knew I had to leave, that keeping the baby would, in the long run, hurt my family more than necessary. And why should anyone but Tommy and I feel the pain for this?

I began to plan. Aunt Clair, Natalie's (my original adoptive mom's) sister had always kept an open door policy for me and my problems. I planned to runaway when I could no longer hide the weight gain and other signs. I told Tommy, but he refused to support me. He said that I was crazy, and denied it. He offered to pay for an abortion, but I refused based on my own beliefs. He hit me, and I decided to run away alone.

**Miley.**

"Hello?" A woman opened the door. She had dark, straight hair and a kind face, but she looked confused. She had obviously recognized me – had probably heard a song or two. "I'm Lisa Nathan, how can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Charlotte Morgan." I told her, "I'm her mother."

"Oh." She said, she looked like she was thinking, "well, come in and I'll bring her down, I guess." She opened the door and guided us into her house, to a comfy living room. At the kitchen counter, which I could see from my seat, were two children. They were both girls, but too young to be my baby. They were both slurping down sugary cereals and discussing what sounded like a local kid's soccer league. The younger girl was already in a team uniform, with her long socks bagging around her ankles and cleats lying beside the stool.

Lisa walked passed them, up to what I supposed was a game room, judging by the sound of a video game that came from it. "Do you know where Charlie is?" she asked someone upstairs, but the response was to quiet for me to hear. I looked over at Jess, but she shrugged at me.

I heard a set of footsteps coming downstairs, and assumed it was Lisa, but it wasn't. Her husband appeared, with a baby just about a year old in his arms. "Hello," he said, walking over to us and extending a hand. I shook his hand, as did Jess, "I'm James Nathan."

"Hi," I said, "I'm Miley, and this is my friends Jessica."

"It's nice to meet you," he said, "but may I ask, what are you doing here?"

"Your wife let us in," I told him, "We're looking for Charlotte Morgan."

"I think she's still asleep," he said smiling, "what did you want to talk to her about?"

"Just to meet her," I explained, "I'm her biological mother." This time blush creaped up my face. It was awkward, and I knew he was doing the mental backward calculation to see how young I had been when she was born (eighteen).

"Well, it's nice to meet you." He said, moving to sit across from me. "I'm sure Charlotte will be glad to finally meet you. She's a great kid you know, very responsible and considerate. She loves theater; you actually just missed the last show of her school's last production, which she was in." This made me happy, knowing that she had grown up to be a good person.

A moment later we heard a shriek from upstairs. I bolted, on my feet in a minute, and followed James upstairs, Jess and the girls who had been eating cereal behind us. We were lead to the house's front most bedroom. There were two girl's beds, a general color scheme of purple and gold-yellow. Over one bed was the name Charlotte Rose in wooden letters, over the other was Jessica Lauren. "What happened?" James asked. His wife was sitting on Jennifer's bed, crying. In her hand was a note, hardly more then half a loose leaf paper. "What's wrong."

"She left." Lisa announced, handing me the note. "She ran away last night." I looked down at the note. The handwriting was clear, the words unmistakable. But why had she left? And where had she gone?

**Author's Note.**

I have the flu, which means I'll be home more, and could possibly write more. Yay.


	5. Chapter 5

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Five**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

How could he be so calm? Didn't he know that my happiness rested in his hands? I mean it had taken him long enough to get here, you'd think he'd at least be a little sympathetic, but no.

"Do you have a picture of the girl?" he asked, not even looking up.

"Her name's Charlotte." I growled. God, he was even looking at the stupid page that said her name, and he forgot it.

"Sorry, do you have any photos of Charlotte?" He asked again. I shook my head.

"Here" Lisa passed over a small stack of photos. He picked up the top one carelessly and sent another flying towards me. I picked up the photo, looking at it. Inside the frame was a high school freshman, a girl on the verge of finding herself. Her skin, eyes, and hair were the exact same color as mine. Her hair was curlier, her eyes a bit larger. She smiled dutifully back at me, her head tilted at the horrible angle that school photographers always insisted upon.

"Thanks." The man said, tucking the photo in-between the pages of his notebook. "Do you know why she left?" Lisa shook her head. He began to ask more questions, about her character and her friends. If they had thought she was happy. If she hung out with the "right" crowd at school. If she had a tattoo. I knew so little about this girl – my own daughter. As Lisa and James answered every question they could, I stood up and climbed the stairs up to her room. It was the same as before, but soon it would be destroyed in a police effort to find any clues. The note lay on her bed. The handwriting was a curly script in purple gel pen.

I put the note back, and turned to her bedside table, anxious to know more. To find her before anyone else. Inside the clean wooden drawer was a shiny jewelry box tied together with yarn. It was a slender box, and probably once held a charm bracelet. I shook it. There was something inside that made a hollow clunking sound. I slipped off the yarn and pulled off the cover. I couldn't believe what I saw inside. Was this my daughters? Could she be keeping it for a friend, or maybe I was looking in the wrong drawer, and this was Jessica Lauren's? Maybe it was a false positive. It had to be wrong, because it couldn't be right.

_**Fourteen years ago . . .**_

_No, no this couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. This was wrong. It had to be. These things were wrong all the time, weren't they? All I had to do was buy another one, and it would prove me right. Show me that this one – this stupid, cheap-o one, was wrong. That was it. Because it just couldn't be right. If it was right, well then I couldn't be Hannah Montana, because Hannah's pure. All the moms would stop their kids listening to me, and everyone would hate me. It would just prove all the haters right, and teach fans the wrong lesson._

"_You okay in there Bud?" Damn. No. I mean darn. Dad – this would kill him. It isn't even his fault. It's no ones but mine. It was my choice to take Lily and Oliver to that party. It was my decision to drink. It was I who told him that I didn't care if he didn't have a condom; I wanted to do it anyway. My stupid pigheaded teenager brain that said nothing could happen the first time. That it would be fine. That this, this horror, wouldn't happen._

_I flushed and put the white wand in my sweatshirt pocket. Opening the door, I darted passed dad into my room and cried._

**Charlie**

"Charlotte?" I looked up from my book. There was a nurse standing at the doorway, a clip board in her hand. I stood, pushing myself up from the scratchy waiting room chair.

"That's me." I answered. Beside me, Aunt Clair stood and we followed the nurse into a small exam room.

"You doctor is Dr. Kaney, and she should be in soon, okay?" I nodded, using a step stool to sit up on the foam table. Thin protective paper crinkled beneath me as I slouched over, resting my hands atop my stomach. It was amazing that I had been able to hide it as long as I had. Now that I wasn't hiding anything people definitely noticed.

The door creaked open, and I immediately sat up straighter. Dr. Kaney was young. – Only in her late twenties. Her curly red hair was everywhere, impossible to miss. "Hi," she said, extending a hand towards me, "I'm Dr. Kaney." I shook her hand, "you must be Charlotte," then she turned to shake hands with Aunt Clair, "and her mother?"

"Aunt." Clair corrected, shaking her hand, "hi."

"Now, let's begin with some basics about you, shall we?" she asked, sitting down. "How old are you?"

"Fourteen."

"And when is your birthday?"

"August Thirty-First"

She continued to ask questions for a while, slowly transitioning from me to the baby. Eventually she started the physical examination, which I have to say was pretty weird. I had only expected an ultrasound – I had no clue there were other tests as well! But she was nice and explained the importance of everything to us. At the end of the visit she did give me an ultrasound.

"And there's the head." She told me, motioning to a large round blob on the screen. "And the body." She slowly scrolled across my stomach. "And the feet." I couldn't help but smile. Babies - born or unborn – are really cute.

"So," she said, shutting down the machine. "You seem pretty healthy. The baby's fine, but you're on the lower side of healthy weight gain, so eat! Eat if your hungry, just keep it as healthy as you can, for your sake and the baby's." she handed me a pamphlet from the small cubbies of them on the wall. "This has an outline of how you should be eating, follow it, and call me if you have any questions, okay? Now, would you like to know the sex?"

I had thought about it, and decided that, at least for now, I wouldn't know. "No."

"Okay," she marked something on her clipboard. "Now, have you looked at all your options? Abortion is out of the question at this stage, but have you considered adoption?"

"I don't know how to get information on it." I told her truthfully. I didn't know what I wanted to do – adoption was probably the most reasonable answer, but could I handle it?

"Here." She handed me a few more pamphlets, "those are all about teen pregnancy. They'll tell you whatever you need to know."

"Thanks."

**Miley**

"Are you okay?" I looked up. Jessica was at the door.

"Yeah, I guess." I said, replacing the wand and cover. I moved the string back and replaced it. "I mean, no." She came and sat beside me, slinging her arm over my shoulders and pulling me close.

"It'll be okay." She confided. "They'll find her Miley. Just think, what girl wouldn't come back when they find out that the mother they ran away from is famous? I mean seriously."

I shook my head. I didn't want her to come back to me just because I'm famous; I wanted her to come back on her own terms. "I don't want her to come out because of me. I want her to want to come back."

"You can at least call Noah and, you know, let him know what's going on." I nodded and pulled my cell out of my purse, pressing his speed dial. It took him a few minutes to pick up.

"Hey Hun, what's going on?" he asked. The sound of his voice, comforting and close immediately calmed me. I took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult.

"I can't give you all the details now, but I need to stay here longer. It could be a week, maybe more. I don't know. I want to explain what's going on in person."

"Give me a sec," he murmured. I heard shuffling in the background as he pulled out his blackberry and scrolled through his calendar. "I have two interviews, Taylor's concert, and the movie premier left. I can cancel the concert but everything else is set in stone now, which means I can be there by . . . Friday. Do you know what the nearest airport is?"

"Dulles International." I answered. "Thanks Noie."

"No problem. I gotta go but I'll call tonight – around nine?"

"Perfect."

**Author's Note.**

No, not Noah, Miley Cyrus's little sister. Noah, Miley STEWART's fiance.

Miley and Charlie are kind of on different time tables. Within a few days of each other though. Hope it doesn't confuse you!


	6. Chapter 6

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Six**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Hey Bud," the familiar voice crackled across the phone line from across the country.

"Hi dad," I said shyly. I had no idea how to bring up what had happened. "How are you?"

"Fine." He answered, "Gemma's doing great, climbing the charts beautifully."

"Yeah, I saw that. She sounds really good." When I had ditched the Hannah World for country, dad decided to stay back in Hollywood and manage kid singers. His current most promising client was Gemma Starr, a thirteen year old with a powerful voice and sweet face.

"Bud, what's going on?"

"Whaddaya mean?" I asked, "Can't a girl check up on her old man?"

"You did not call me to just say hi. What's up?" I sighed.

"Well, since I was here anyways, I thought I'd look up Charlotte."

"Oh Miley." He sighed. Even across the line I could tell that he was rubbing his forehead in concentration. "Why would you go and do something like that?"

"It was an open adoption dad!" I defended, feeling like a kid again. "I used to drop by all the time when she was a baby."

"Yeah but when she's fourteen? What were you thinking?"

"That I wanted to make sure I had made the right decision. Anyways, it turns out that Marcus and Natalie died when she was only six, and since then she's been in three different foster homes!"

"Did you find her?"

"Not exactly." I sighed again, settling into the comfy armchair in my hotel room. "I found the family fine, but she ran away the day before."

"Are the police looking for her?" his voice took on a new tone, anxious.

"Yeah they've already started looking, but I'm so scared dad." My voice began to wobble, "What if they don't find her? Where could she even be? I mean that family was really nice." Tears rolled down my cheeks, "Why would she even run away?"

"I don't know, Miles. Teenagers are really hard to explain. But I'm sure they'll find her; she couldn't have gotten very far in only a day. I bet you she'll be back, safe at home, within a week." His voice was soothing, smoothing out my frazzled nerves like only a parent can.

I brushed away a tear.

"I hope your right dad."

**Charlie**

I sat on my bed, the brochures and pamphlets that Dr. Kaney had given to me spread out in a neat semi-circle. I had read through each of them. The one on eating healthy was pinned up in the kitchen, important parts highlighted in fluorescent yellow. The three on the left were about teen pregnancy, or pregnancy in general. It outlined basic information like how much weight I should gain and the very basics of a normal birth. From them I had calculated an approximate due date: late September. Right now I was six and a half months, just about to start the third trimester.

The other six brochures were from adoption agencies, outlining why they could help you find the best home for your baby, costs, and how the decision was important. Like I didn't already know how much it could change your life. There was also one about why I should keep the baby, outlining the benefits of knowing your mother and the positive effects on the kid's self esteem.

I had no clue what to do.

On one hand, I had no clue how to take care of myself, let alone a baby. What kind of mother could I be at only fifteen? (I would turn fifteen before the baby was born) Not a good one, I knew. And I couldn't really expect anyone to help me, either. This was my mess, my problem. Not theirs.

On the other hand, could I really give up my baby? Could I do to another human what had been done to me? No, I didn't think I could. Whatever the cost may be to me, I couldn't bear the thought of not knowing my own kid. There was always, of course, an open adoption. But how awkward would that be? And confusing! Imagine having to explain to someone how I was and was not his mother, at the same time!

I bit my lip, fighting back the tears that burned in the corners of my eyes. I pulled a pillow to my chest before letting the tears flow free. A minute into my sobfest Clair entered. She sat beside me on the bed and wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close.

"What's wrong, Dottie?" She asked. Oh, that nick name brought back so many memories. It had been what Natalie and Marcus had called me. She was the only one who used the name anymore, everyone else called me Charlie or Charlotte. I shook my head. I knew that if I tried to talk that it would only come out as an incoherent babble anyways.

"Shhhhh." She whispered, handing me a box of tissues. I took one gratefully and pressed it to my eyes. As I tried to stem the flow she spoke again. "Is this what's wrong?" she asked, holding up a few of the pamphlets. I nodded and grabbed another tissue. "What are you afraid of?"

"Of how much it would hurt me to give the kid up," I told her between great gulps of air.

"You don't have to give it up if you don't want to, Dots. If you want to keep the kid, I'll help you."

"You will?"

"Yes. It will definitely be your baby, but any time you need a babysitter or can't cover some costs I'll help." She smiled, placing a hand on my stomach, "that is my grand-niece in there, you know."

I smiled. If I chose to keep the kid I would always have Aunt Clair to help me.

"But Dottie," she continued, "you should still consider your options. I'll be willing to help you if you choose to keep the baby, but you still have to consider the effect that would have on you. You'd have to get a job to pay for daycare and supplies. In the first couple of months that baby will wake up every two hours, and you'll have to get up to feed it. I'll try to make that road easier, but it will still be hard. Take some time to consider adoption, maybe look into a few couples that are interested. I could help you contact an agency, if you want." My tears had stopped, and I let go of her and took one of the brochures into my hands, pretending to read the words inside.

"What are you thinking?" she asked after a minute.

"That I have no clue what I'm gonna do." I answered truthfully.

"You, sweetie, are going to go wash your face. We can continue this discussion during dinner, which will be on the table in five minutes. Okay?"

I nodded and went to wash my face, trying to smile.

**Miley.**

Where was he? The group from his flight had arrived five minutes ago, and half of them already had their bags. His green duffle had just begun to go around the luggage carousel. I dropped my sign and reached for a handle of the bag. It was heavy, and I almost toppled over taking it off. I dragged it back a couple feet and continued searching the crowd for his tousled blonde hair. Suddenly, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind, setting off the balance and I fell backward into him. "Miss me?" Noah asked, kissing my neck.

"Now why on earth would I ever miss you?" I asked playfully. "Now put me down!"

He laughed, placing me back on my feet. I swiveled to face him, but before I could say a word he kissed me again. I soared. I was flying. The world was back from its trip to upside-down land and everything was going to be all right again. "So what did you want to tell me?" he asked, pulling out of the kiss and picking up his bag.

"When we're alone" I answered, wrapping my arm around his lower back while he wrapped his around my shoulders. And together we stepped out of the airport, reunited.

**Author's Note.**

Charlie's got some tough decisions ahead of her. What do you think she should choose?

Can you believe my luck? I'm sick again! Strep throat has to be the most disgusting thing ever.


	7. Chapter 7

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Seven**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"So," Noah said slowly, "you're looking for the daughter that you gave up fourteen years ago?" I nodded.

"There's one more thing." I said, my voice shaky from crying. "I think . . . Noah, I think she's pregnant."

"What?" he sounded outraged, angry beyond belief.

"I found a positive pregnancy test in her room. It could have been her friends but somehow, I don't think it is."

"God, Miles." He muttered.

"I know it's a lot and that I don't really know her. But she's my kid, and I have to be here for her." I explained.

"No she's not."

"What?" I asked, pulling away from him.

"She's not your kid, Miley. She's James and Lisa's kid. And maybe she's like to know you and talk to you, but she is not your kid. And if-" I sobbed, "sorry, when they find her don't you think she'll be more comfortable surrounded by people she's already known for years? And isn't her comfort important, especially if you're right, and she's facing such a tough situation? Wouldn't you want people you know well there for you when you gave birth, instead of someone you've only known a couple months?"

That stung. How dare he underestimate my love for her? She was my own daughter! Of course I would love and support her like crazy! And if her old foster family wanted to visit I'd pay for their tickets anytime, all they'd have to do is ask.

"Leave." I ordered.

"What?" he asked, stunned.

"I said leave." I barked, throwing him his jacket, "if you're not going to support me than I don't want you here." I threw open the door and watched the fuzzy outline of him, blurred by tears, get off of my bed. "Now go."

"Miley." He murmured, his voice softer, as if he was trying to explain something very obvious to an impatient two-year-old.

"Leave." I repeated, holding the door wider. He moved past me, through the door and down the hall to his own room.

**Charlie**

"Ow," I whispered, turning onto my back in my darkened bed room. Inside me Shane (we'd decided that saying "it" when we referred to the baby sounded wrong, and "Shane" was the most unisex name we could come up with on short notice) somersaulted and aimed a new attach at my left rib. I spread my hands wide over the expanse of stomach. "I swear I'll make you pay for each stupid kick, kid." I muttered as a softer kick landed on my left hand, as if in greeting. I pressed harder, trying to communicate in body language, only to receive a sharp kick in response. "Fine, I won't invade your world if you don't make mine hell. Deal?" another soft kick. I rolled my eyes. It would be a long time before Shane stopped practicing soccer with my organs, and I wasn't all that tired anyways. So instead of lying there, trying to make deals with the unborn, I pushed myself up and turned on my laptop. Aunt Clair had helped me sign up with an adoption agency yesterday. Now I had an account on there website and could peruse perspective couples by any means I wanted – age, race, location. Anything. Each had a page where I could read a little about them, maybe see a few pictures or watch an introductory video. From there I could make a short list of couples I wanted to meet with, and the agency would arrange it.

The page booted up and I put in my username and password. The page came up and I opened the search engine. I entered in the D.C. Area, where I live, and that I wanted people who already had kids. A short list of couples appeared.

First were the McLeen's. They looked really young, and I subconsciously wondered how much older than me they could possibly be. Their profile said that they were in their late twenties, but I didn't buy it. They looked like teenagers, so I skipped past them.

Next were the Kyle's. I clicked onto their page and was immediately assaulted by religious music. My mouse had turned into a golden cross, and the background was a collage of Jesus photos. It turned out that they were devoutly religious and really involved in their church. I nixed them, religion wasn't really my thing.

The Kaplans were next. They were a bit older, so I followed the link. On their page they explained that they had four kids already – African twins attending my rival high school, a Chinese middle schooler, and a fourth grader from India. The large age gaps between kids bugged me – wasn't the point of siblings to be close enough in age to relate to?

Shane seemed to be calming down as I returned to the search page and widened it to include prospective foster families as well. The same three families turned up, along with another one I recognized. It was the Nathans. I had to bite back tears as I forced myself to look at their page. I read as they described me and my siblings. They explained how Jennifer and Alison, their biological kids, were treated no differently then their adopted and foster kids. I read about Anna and Aaron, the ten year old twins who had been bounced around in the system for years, like I was. They wrote about John, the orphaned baby they had just taken in and were planning to adopt.

I missed him so much. He'd first arrived nearly eleven months ago, pale and tiny from being born premature. I had spent every moment I could with him. It was my escape to hold him, because he was easy to care for. Sure he cried a lot, but solutions for him were easy, unlike the older kids. Where they were loud and constantly moving, he was happy to snuggle against me while I watched television. I missed the warm weight of his body in my arms, and how he sometimes he stopped crying just because I was holding him, and not one of the younger kids. He was the one it had hurt me most to leave. I miss them all terribly, but him the most. When I left nearly a month ago he had been about to walk. I wondered if now he could wander across an entire room without falling. I bet he could.

I brushed away a tear and shut down the laptop, placing it carefully on my nightstand. As I adjusted back to a lying position Shane began the assault again, this time kicking my bladder. It was going to be a long night.

**Author's Note.**

That was basically insight into who Charlotte is, and the problem she's struggling with.

Who do you think is right, Miley or Noah?

Just got home from vacation – I miss you Caribbean Princess Cruise!!!! Hope you all had great spring breaks.


	8. Chapter 8

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Eight**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

_Can we talk?_

_-Noah Moss_

I sighed. It was the hundredth text he had sent me since last night. I was getting so annoyed at this point that I was actually considering talking to him, if only to tell him to stop trying to talk to me. But instead of texting back, I stood and dressed for the day. I put on my disguise wig – short, curly red hair – so that no one would recognize me, and headed down for breakfast. Before I could even get to the elevators, however, I ran into a bouquet of flowers, pink and white gerber daisies, in front of my door. The tag hanging from them was another similar message from Noah. I dumped them into the trash, grabbed my keycard, and closed the door.

I kept to myself at the breakfast buffet. I chose a quiet corner, picked up a mug of coffee, loaded it with sugar and cream, grabbed a muffin, and returned to my seat. Quietly, I stirred my coffee and opened my book, quickly sinking into the world of Jodi Picoult's newest novel.

"Hey." I didn't look up; I didn't need to see the face to know that it was Noah in front of me. I said nothing. "Can we talk?" I said nothing, but did not stop him from sitting in the chair across from me either. "Fine, I'll talk." He sighed before continuing. "I want to support you. I want this to work out so that you can know your daughter and have her love you back. I really, truly want this for you."

"Then why did you say all that stuff?" I asked, still not looking up from my book.

"Because I'm trying to cat-on-the-roof you."

"What?" What the heck was he talking about?

"Have you ever read Princess Diaries?"

"No."

"Oh. Well my sister did, and she read some of the passages to me. In one of them Mia's mom explained how she would prepare her for let down by saying that her cat had escaped onto the roof. And then that he'd gone to a neighbor's roof, and they couldn't get to him. And there was this whole story about how she tried to save the cat, but he ended up dying anyway. Anyways, the point of the story was that knowing these little not-so-horrible bits ahead of time was supposed to prepare Mia so that she wouldn't be so shocked to hear that Fat Louie died. And I think that's what I was trying to do to you. I'm just trying to point out how Charlotte might feel, so that if she isn't totally thrilled to meet you it won't be such a shock."

"But why wouldn't she want to meet me?" I had put my book away now, opting instead to stare at Noah's sunglasses in the hope that I was looking into his eyes.

"I don't know," he put a hand on mine, "but who can really understand a teenagers brain?"

"No one, I guess."

**Charlie**

As the days grew warmer I began to sit outside more often. The hammock was a comfortable place to lie back with a book and spend hours letting life pass by. In the mornings I took out a glass of lemonade and read. When afternoon came and dumped off the high schoolers I sat on the sidelines and watched pick up basketball games in a nearby cul-de-sac. Mostly the kids, my age and older, took no notice of me. At first they had stared, seeming awkward at being watched. Eventually the nerves had subsided and they just ignored me, which I was fine with. I loved to watch people interact, and I began to recognize the kids. There were two boys, both freshmen who lived on opposite sides of the street. One was loud and a show-off, while the other was quieter but a better player. The other four were girls. Two were juniors, best friends who lived side-by-side and always insisted on being on the same team. They worked well together. One was a freshman, the younger sister of one of the girls. She seemed to really like one of the boys, judging by her misguided attempts at flirting, but had no real interest or talent at basketball. Finally there was a sophomore, a taller girl who had trouble dribbling but was great at shooting.

One day another boy joined, throwing the teams off balance. They seemed to be unsure of what to do as they huddled together, choosing teams. A couple times one of the boys would look over at me, and one of the junior girls pointed. Finally, the youngest girl marched over. "They wanted me to come over and ask if you wanted to join in our game to make the teams even," she said boldly, "but I think that's really rude of them."

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She was funny, the way she was so defensive of me. But I did wish I could play, even though I knew it was too great a risk.

"I can't play." I told her, "but thanks for asking." She sighed, sitting on the curb beside me and stretching out her legs.

"My name's Katie." She said, pulling up a couple blades of grass to fiddle with.

"I'm Charlie." That caught her attention.

"Charlie? Isn't that a boy's name?" she asked, folding the blades on top of each other.

"It's short for Charlotte." I answered.

"Oh," she nodded. There was silence for a moment before she pulled another topic out of thin air.

"So where do you go to school?" she asked.

"I used to go to Westfield." I answered simply. "Where do you go?"

"Centreville." She answered dully. "Go cougars!" she cheered, without any real enthusiasm. I laughed.

"You must be trying out for the cheersquad." I joked.

"I think if I did my dad would die of shock."

We passed a while talking about books and schools. She was outgoing and could make a conversation out of anything, which was cool. It wasn't awkward talking to her, and for once I didn't have to focus on the biggest decision of my life. I could just be a teenager, and that was amazing.

**Miley.**

Moments later my cell phone rang. I was going to ignore it, but it was the Nathans.

"Hello?"

"Miley?" Asked Lisa in a nervous voice.

"That's me." I said.

"The police think they've found Charlotte."

**Author's Note.**

OMG!

Just saw the movie. It rocked! First movie that I actually cried at. SOOO sweet. If you haven't seen it you have to because it's awesome.


	9. Chapter 9

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Nine**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Hello," Lisa said, standing as we approached her front door. She had been sitting outside with two policemen whom I recognized from our first meeting.

"Hi." I said, "this is my fiancé, Noah. Noah, this is Charlotte's step mom, Lisa Nathan."

"Hello," they said simultaneously, and shook hands.

"So what's the news?" I asked. I was anxious because Lisa hadn't told me on the phone.

"We'll explain on the way." One of the policemen answered. "Carl here is going to take you to the station while I make sure we've got the right girl. Alright?"

"Wait," I said, stopping them from leaving, "why can't we go with you?"

"It's our policy ma'am." Answered Carl, who was significantly younger then the other officer. He seemed a bit star struck as well. It was as if he was having trouble saying any words at all. I sighed and followed them out to the second police car while Lisa followed behind in her mini van.

**Charlie**

I was reading a good book in the backyard hammock when the doorbell rang. I was about to get up and answer it when Aunt Clair called from the house that she would get it. It was unusual for us to have any visitors at the house, so I watched, wondering who it could be. From my seat I could kind of see into the living room, but there wasn't a chance that they could see me. I couldn't count the number of times Clair had looked out here and completely skipped over me when I was lying in the hammock.

It was a man at the door; he looked like he was in his early fifties, strong but kind. As Aunt Clair led him into the living room I got a clearer view of his outfit – a police uniform. They had found me. I was shocked, scared, but I couldn't move. I knew that it would only make it harder if I tried to hide now. What could I say? How could I explain myself? All the times I'd imagined telling the Nathans I was pregnant had been before it had actually been an obvious, visual fact.

I watched as Aunt Clair offered him cookies, but he declined. She seemed to be stalling, and he didn't appear to be amused. A minute later she turned to the porch door. "Dottie." She said. "Dottie you better get in here right now." I sighed and slipped out of the hammock, closed my book, and carried it inside. The officer seemed momentarily shocked to see my protruding stomach, but recovered quickly.

"Hello Charlotte, I'm Officer Hall. I'm here to take you back to the Nathan's." There was no use arguing.

"Can I get my stuff?" I asked. He nodded and followed me upstairs. While Aunt Clair and I packed my bags up he leaned casually against the doorframe and asked us casual questions. I answered him politely as I could. Soon we were all packed and my bags had been forced into the trunk of his cruiser.

"I'll miss you sweet heart." Aunt Clair told me as we hugged. She pulled me so close that I could feel her heart beating. I held her tight, as if I by doing so I could transport myself back in time to when she was still truly my Aunt.

"Bye." I muttered lamely as the Officer gently forced me into the backseat and took the front himself.

**Miley.**

"So," I said, nervously, breaking the ten-minute silence. "How is this going to work? Does she go back to you, or come home with me?"

Lisa looked up at me for the first time since we'd arrived at the station. "I thought we'd let her choose."

"Yeah, okay." I agreed. We settled back into silence.

The room we were in was so depressing. The ugly mint green wallpaper was faded and torn. A classic chessboard pattern graced the beaten linoleum. The chairs were mismatched, some ugly square brown ones, a few like the ones in every public school, and one or two folding chairs that had seen better days. In the corner was a wilting plastic tree. On the walls were warning posters about smoking, drinking, and criminal activity. The U.S. Justice system was outlined in black and white, literally, across one wall. Another was half a glass window, overlooking a busy desk.

I settled for looking out the parking lot-view window. Outside it was a warm, sunny day. So cheerful in contrast to darkness inside. Suddenly, I started. A cruiser drove in. He walked to the backseat and helped a girl out. Her features were blurry from this distance, but I would bet all my money that it was Charlotte. She had brown hair and was obviously pregnant, like I'd feared. Oh well, it was too late to change that now, I guess. He had his hand on her shoulder, obviously a warning in body language not to try to run, or he would come after her. And while normally a teenage girl would be faster than a fifty-plus guy, she wouldn't be if she were that pregnant.

As they neared the door Lisa turned, followed my gaze and gasped. She stood and ran, meeting Charlotte and the officer at the door. She immediately locked her in a tight hug. Charlotte hugged back, tears running down my face. They talked quietly for a few minutes. Before Lisa took her hand and lead her across the lobby to me. "Charlotte, this is Miley Stewart, your biological mom. Miley, this is Charlotte." I looked up into the face of the girl I'd noticed at Oliver and Lily's wedding.

**Author's Note.**

Dance competition and youth group elections this weekend, VERY busy might not update for a while but ily guys!


	10. Chapter 10

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Ten**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlie**

When I stepped into the station I had spared no thought for the other couple sitting in the waiting room. Instead I focused on Mrs. Nathan, who ran up to me immediately. She wrapped me in her arms, a safe cocoon that I gladly accepted. I had missed her so much. The stability of having a mother had been lost on Aunt Clair. She was nice, but acted as more of a room mate then a parent.

"I missed you so much." She said, squeezing me. Then she stepped back, taking me in. I winced as her eyes stuck on my protruding bulge. "Is this why you left?" she asked, fluttering her hand onto the top of the mass. I nodded, a tear escaping my left eye. She pulled me close again. We were so close that I could feel her heart beat and smell the comfort of her vanilla shampoo. "I'll be here for you, hunny." She assured me. "It'll all be okay." She rubbed my back for a moment before straightening up. Her hands fell to clasp mine and her eyes sparkled. "I have a surprise for you." She said.

"You'll never guess who showed up the day after you left." I didn't speak as she dropped one hand and dragged me forward by the other. In a second I caught up and she wrapped her arm around my shoulders instead. We came to face the other woman in the room. Instantly, I recognized her. Her face was shinning brightly from many cds in our house, both in her natural brown hair and her fake blonde. The lyrics – some peppy dance tunes, others soft ballads – had often bounced around our living the room as the younger kids laughed and danced. What was she doing here?

"Charlotte, this is Miley Stewart, your biological mom."

**Miley.**

I studied her. Her hair crinkled and curled in dancing brown strands, the color was my own but the texture must have been some hidden gene, because it wasn't one that her father or I displayed. Her eye color was his, a melting chocolate brown, but wider like my own. Her face shape was a mixture; she had his rounded chin but my rounder face. She smiled shyly, another one of his traits. It warmed her face and made her eyes dance against her skin tone, a couple shades darker than my natural one.

I couldn't stand without forcing her to move backwards, her stomach occupied the space that I would have, so I greeted her from my seat. "Hi, Charlotte." I said, motioning for her to come sit beside me. "I've been waiting a long time to meet you."

**Charlie**

"Me too." I agreed softly before lowering myself carefully into the chair beside hers. I remembered having so many questions for her. I had literally made a written list that was stuck at the bottom of my backpack. There were so many things that I wanted to know, but sitting here beside her I couldn't think of any of them.

Suddenly the man behind her caught my eye. It was Noah Moss, a famous actor. He had just come onto the scene a year ago, and his first movie with a lead role had come out just weeks ago. What could he be doing here?

Following my gaze, she added, "and this is my fiance, Noah."

"Hi," I whispered shyly, too softly for him to here me.

"Hello, Charlotte." He answered, shaking my hand across Miley and flashing me his dazzling smile that caught the hearts of teenage girls across the world. Was this man my father?

"So, Charlotte, is there anything you want to know about us?" Miley asked. "Anything, don't be shy. After all, we are family." She chuckled.

"Yeah." I said. "I mean yes, I have like a million questions." The words were rushed, I couldn't get them out fast enough. But just as I opened my backpack to dig for them Mrs. Nathan came back over.

"Why don't you ask them on the car ride home, Charlotte?" she suggested. "We can leave now." I nodded, zipped up my backpack, and followed her and Miley out the door, Noah following behind with my duffle. In the car Lisa and Noah took the front seats, leaving Miley and I in the middle.

"What do you want me to call you?" I asked her as soon as I was strapped in.

She seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. "Mom, but only if your comfortable with it. Otherwise, Miley's just fine." I blushed. I was uncomfortable calling her mom, of course, but I would feel rude using her first name.

"Do you have a nickname?" she asked, but I shook my head. "Really?" she asked, "I think I remember Natalie calling you Dots, or something like that?" I winced.

"Dottie." I corrected quietly. "But no one calls me that anymore."

"Oh," she seemed to understand. "Okay then."

"A lot of people call me Charlie." I offered, a peace offering.

"Alright, Charlie." She smiled, "you had some questions for me?"

"I wouldn't know where to begin." I confided pulling out my notebook. It was small, but almost all the pages were filled. She held out her hand and I gave her the book. She read the first page seriously.

"My favorite color? Is that really something you want to know?" she laughed, but not meanly.

I nodded. "I've always wondered if the stuff I choose as my favorites were things that you liked. Like is my love of watermelon from you? Or my allergy to cinnamon?"

"The cinnamon is me," she explained, "but it was your dad that liked watermelon. Any melon, really. And for your information, I like pink and teal a lot."

"Oh." My favorite color was purple, a combination of the two.

She turned to another question. "Do I have any pets?" she read out loud. "Yes, three horses, one cat, two dogs, and a couple of birds. What about you?"

I shook my head. "No, but I've always wanted a guinea pig."

She smiled, "well maybe I can help make that happen."

What did that mean? Was I coming to live with her?

"I hope so." I said, forcing a smile. But did I really?

**Author's Note.**

So…busy life. So much writer's block, but I'm getting passed it!


	11. Chapter 11

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Eleven**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlie**

"Charlotte," Lisa said as she parked in the driveway, "everyone's out at dinner right now. I was thinking this would be a good time to show Miley and Noah your baby albums."

"So I'm not going to be punished?" I asked hopefully. I couldn't help it, it just spilled out of me. Word vomit. I had been so sure that I was in for the grounding of a life time.

"That can wait until tomorrow." She said, smiling. "I'm too happy to have you home to think about punishment right now." I smiled too, and came inside with everyone else. While Lisa grabbed the books I grabbed some drinks – Diet Coke for Miley, skim milk for me, water for everyone else. "Here we go," Lisa said, carefully placing the pile on the glass coffee table as I passed Noah his water. He and Miley were seating on the large green couch, and Lisa positioned herself on the matching armchair. Lisa motioned for me to come sit where I normally did, with my back against the couch, the right side of my body pressed up against her chair. For a moment I tried to sit, but couldn't find a comfortable position with my new belly.

**Miley.**

I hated watching Charlotte struggle to sit in a spot that she normally fit into well. The realization in her eyes as she came to grips with the fact that she didn't fit anymore was heartbreaking. Before she could dwell on it, I motioned for her to sit beside me, scooting over to give her room. She moved to stand, but had trouble holding up her own weight.

"Here." Lisa offered her a hand, which she took half-heartedly. Her face, happy only a minute ago, had fallen into a frown. She no longer radiated joy, but sadness. Quickly, I opened the first book. The opening page was her adoption certificate.

"_Miley." Dad whispered, "Wake up now, Miles." I was shaken from my dream to reality, cruelly forced into a world of bright lights that beamed down even as the sky outside was only beginning to lighten. Suddenly, I became aware of my surroundings. First I noticed the crumpled cotton-plastic blend of my hospital gown, then the itchy standard blanket keeping me warm. In front of me was a dirty teal wall with a standard border of purple squares. Beside my bed was a brown rolling table. Before it had held a teddy bear Natalie had given me, as well as a couple of snapped polaroids and a cookie I'd been saving. Now it had all been swiped thoughtlessly onto a chair (the cookie thrown away) and replaced by a stack of ominous-looking papers. Behind the desk, wielding her pen like a sword, was the Morgan's lawyer._

"_Hey there sleepy-head." Natalie whispered, smiling. "I'm so sorry about this, but Carol has a plan to catch in a few hours, and she won't be back for a month, and I know how much you want to go back to California." I nodded, I understood. They didn't want me to abandon the adoption because their lawyer wasn't there._

"_Can't my dad just sign for me?" I asked, a little whiny. After all, they had just woken me from a much-needed nap. "Aren't I still a minor?"_

"_We need yours." Carol said, pushing the table up to me. "Sign here, and here, and here, and . . ." She continued to point out lines, and I autographed each one with a flourish. "Now," she said, "the official certificate." I held up my pen to sign, but she shook her head. "You just need to be present." She told me. I handed the pen to Natalie. She signed on the first line, and Marcus on the second. Carol signed. "Initial here." She said, and I did. A second later dad followed suite. "Well, that's all." She said. She handed the paper we had just signed to the Nathans, a different one to me, and took the rest for herself. "Goodbye." She shook hands all around before leaving._

_None of us knew what to say, so an empty silence hung in the room. Suddenly, Charlotte began to whimper from her bassinet. Natalie reached her before I could even get out of bed. "It's okay baby girl." She whispered as Charlotte quieted. "Mommy's here."_

I flipped a page to find a collage of the polaroids we had taken. One was of me in labor, dad sitting on the bed directly in front of me, patting my hair and whispering comforting words while I howled in pain, most of my face hidden behind his shoulder. Another was a close up of Charlottes, moments after being born. She was screaming her tiny lungs out, beat red, umbilical cord still spiraling from her. Across her tiny chest was a hand with a thin silver band. I traced the ring. It was mine, my mother's wedding ring that I had inherited at her death. I only wore it on special occasions where I needed luck and strength. Like now. Like then.

"That's your hand?" Charlie asked, tracing it herself. I nodded.

"I thought you were going to slip off of me, so I was holding you tight." I explained.

"Oh," she said, surprised. "Is this the ring?" she pointed to the one I was wearing, and I nodded.

"It was my mother's wedding ring." I explained, looking at the next picture on the page. There were two pictures of Charlotte. Then, in the center, was one we'd taken on the last day in the hospital. Lisa was holding Charlie close, and my arm was wrapped around Lisa's. I marveled at how different I looked. I had dyed my hair almost black, and had cut it to just above my shoulders. The room's lighting made my eyes look as dark as my hair. I wasn't in my normal clothes either. I was in baggy maternity jeans and a plain white t-shirt with a jacket on top.

"That's you?" Noah asked, shocked. The only images of me at the time that she had seen before were probably blonde-haired and sparkle covered, not this darker girl that I had sunk into. I nodded.

"That was my favorite jacket from the last tour," I explained, "I was so depressed when it stopped fitting me that I promised myself I'd wear it out of the hospital, just because I could," I laughed at the memory of my pig-headedness. "It still didn't fit all that well. I had so much left over baby fat."

I turned the page to see more images I knew well – pictures that Natalie had sent me. Some from my bi-monthly visits, some of their relatives. There were a couple pages of these, but suddenly the images changed. The pages went from a slow progression of age to a series of school photos, each labeled with a grade. There were a few schools represented, because of Charlie's various moves. There she was in kindergarten, looking shy in piggy tails and glasses. Then first grade, a similar photo. In second grade her hair was cut to shoulder length and held back by springy butterfly clips. In fifth grade she donned braces, and in seventh they were removed. The year of eighth grade she had contact lenses that changed her eyes from a murky almost-hazel to a clear brown. Then there was the picture from her freshmen year that I had seen earlier.

"I didn't take a lot of pictures." She explained bashfully, flipping the page before I could inspect the images further. The pictures were from a few years ago, and many featured the same four smiling pre-teens, all ruler-thin and freckled.

"These are my best friends at my thirteenth birthday." Charlotte explained, pointing to a picture of her and the three other girls sitting on a low brick wall. On the very left was a girl in a dark sweatshirt from the musical Wicked and jeans stretching to cover her bare feet despite the obvious summer heat. "That's Shannon." She told me. The girls' leg was intertwined with the one beside her, a blonde in a summer dress. "And that's Ellie." Next was obviously Charlotte in a polka-dotted blue top and white shorts. Beside her was a shy looking girl in capri's and a shapeless top from a Jonas Brother's tour. "That's Naomi, she was my roommate at the Carter's."

Over Charlotte's head Lisa gave me a meaningful look, and I understood. When she had explained Charlotte's past families to me she had not gone into detail about the Carter's, only to say that they had been shut down years ago, and that Charlie still kept in touch with one girl who was now living in a home for teenage mothers. Turning back to Charlotte, I saw her staring at a different photo. This one featured Naomi and her. In her arms was a toddler with copper-colored curls. The baby in Naomi's hair also had red hair that matched that of the girl carrying him. It was impossible to believe that these two children were hers, given her tiny size.

Noticing my gaze, Charlotte quickly flipped to a new page, this one full of smiling girls in the woods. "Camp Louise." She explained to me, telling me about her summer-time friends. Slowly the conversation turned to my summer camp experiences, and then Lisa's. As we bonded over mutual memories at a different camp Charlotte leaned into me. Slowly her head fell to rest on my shoulder, and her eyes closed. She had had a long day.

**Author's Note.**

I love Camp Louise.

Sorry, got a little busy there. Still ultra busy (stupid end-of-year tests!)


	12. Chapter 12

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twelve**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlie**

"Charlie!" a loud whisper sounded in my ear. "Charlie, get up!" I blinked in the bright light.

"Whaaaaat?" I asked, dragging out the syllables in my sleepiness.

"Come on," Lisa urged, pulling back my covers and offering me a hand. I let her pull me up. "Get dressed, we're leaving in twenty minutes."

"What?"

"You need to be one-hundred percent ready to leave in twenty minutes." She repeated, helping me stand, "now get moving!" She gave me a light shove towards the bathroom that Jennifer and I shared. I stumbled in that direction.

Thirty minutes later I was hardly more awake as I fiddled with the window control. It was on child lock, so nothing happened when I pressed the button up and or down, but it was something to do.

"Where are we going?" I asked for what felt like the hundredth time.

"For the last time, we're going to breakfast!" Lisa reprimanded. I sighed and gave up asking, opting instead to look out the window. Passing by were the familiar roads I had come to memorize in the past three years. We passed by a small shopping center and a patch of low-lying brown apartment buildings. These bled into rows of pristine white town houses and a Korean church. We passed under a busy bridge and turned in, going past the sprawling local mall's parking lot, and instead following around half it's length to a squat Hilton. In front was a small cluster of men in jeans and dark t-shirts holding cameras leaning against the brick wall. They made me feel uneasy.

"What are we doing here?" I asked as we stepped out of the car.

"Meeting some people." Lisa said, rolling her eyes and leading James and I towards the hotel. As we neared the door she made sure that I was on her left, farthest from the guys I had spotted. However, I was still close enough to hear them muttering, 'is that the girl?' 'no, no she's shorter' 'wait that is her'. But we were in the door, through the lobby and down the hall to a small conference room. Inside Noah was leaning backwards in an impressive chair to fit the executive of a large company. His eyes were caught on the flat-screen tv hanging above out heads that was recapping some big game from years before. When we took our seats her turned it off.

"Hi," he said, nodding his head in greating, "Miley'll be back in a couple minutes."

I nodded, and sure enough the scuffle of feet could be heard in the outside of the hallway only a minute later. But then someone began to talk, and I realized that it wasn't Miley out in the hall, but my worst fear.

"Mom I don't-" the familiar voice whined, it's usual tone.

"You what?" His voice was overtaken by his mothers' normally kind one. But now it was shrill, high and angry. "The next words out of your mouth better be that you're going to make good on this, I swear. She is a nice girl, Thomas, and she's been through hell. I warned you when you asked her out and look what happened! Just look! You are going to help however you can if it kills me. Do you hear me Thomas Jordan Gilroy? You are not skipping out like your stupid father!"

"Yeah okay." He whispered dejectedly. They were closer to the door now. Everyone around the table was silent, listening in like I was.

"What was that?"

"I said yes mam." He corrected.

"Good, now you are going to go in there and the only words I want to hear out of your mouth is 'I am so sorry for putting you in this situation Charlotte I'll do whatever I can to make it up to you', do you hear me?"

"Yes mam." He recited again. A moment later the door opened. I quickly pretended to be inspecting my nails, watching him out of the corner of my eye. He did a slight double take when he saw my stomach, and then again when his eyes traveled down the table to see Noah. Still, he quickly recovered and walked up to me. As he did so I swilved my chair around, trying to maintain as much dignity as I could, but when I found my eyes locked onto his baby blues I was lost, floating out to sea in their wide expanse.

"Charlotte," he said, jolting me to reality, "I'm really sorry for putting you in this situation, and I want you to know that I will do whatever I can to make it up to you." I blushed, my cheeks burning red as I wondered how to reply. Say that it's okay? But it wasn't, not by a long shot. Luckily, I was saved the necessity to respond when the door burst open again, Miley loudly announcing her presents and carrying several bulky bags.

"Breakfast!" she called, heaving the bags onto the table. "I didn't know what anyone liked so I just got a bunch of stuff she said, taking things out of their bags. "Cinnamon buns, coffee, bagles, cream cheese, . . ." she rattled off the list, placing each item on the table. I turned to face her, leaving Tommy to gawk at not one but two A-list celebrities. "Don't just stand there!" she said, waving him over, "Eat!" He did move, walking to sit beside his mom and as far away from me as he could get. Everyone took a moment to get their food and start a pot of coffee before Lisa officially started the meeting that would officially seal my fate.

**Miley.**

I looked down the table at Thomas as everyone but him turned to face Lisa. He looked like the member of a boy band, like the kind that had been popular in the later nineties and early two-thousands. He had a clean face and dark blonde hair that flopped into his face. As I watched he tucked a stray piece behind his ear, revealing that two earrings hanging there. It also revealed his eyes – dark blue and downcast, staring at his meal. He was hunched over looking ashamed, heartbroken, and a little bored. He flipped his fork over as Lisa began to speek.

"I think introductions are necessary first." She said, getting right down to business. "Thomas and Ms. Lock, this is Miley Stewart, Charlotte's biological mom, and her fiancé Noah. Noah and Miley, this is Thomas, the baby's father, and his Ms. Lock." She sighed before speaking again. "So . . . I don't really know what to say. We need to decide what's going to happen - are they both going to continue with school? Will they live together or get married? It's a-"

"Wait a sec. Why wouldn't they get married?" Everyone turned to stare at Ms. Lock.

"Well, if they don't wan-"

"Who cares what they want? Isn't that what got us here in the first place?" She was angry and passionate about her cause. "They're going to need each other! One adult can barely raise a baby – how could we expect either of them to manage on their own?"

"Wait!" Charlotte cried, louder then I'd ever heard her before. I knew her as a shy girl curled around her stomach, protective and ashamed at the same time. But here she was confident and forceful. "I don't want to get married!" She stood up, pushing her hands down onto the table. "Honestly, I don't know if I ever want to see Tommy again! He can have a relationship with his kid, fine. Maybe take him on weekends or something, but I'm not living with him. No way, no how." I watched as Tommy glanced up at the word "him". Did Charlie know that she was having a boy as a fact? She hadn't mentioned anything earlier.

"No one's saying that you have to do any-" Lisa comforted, pulling Charlie back into her seat when Ms. Lock cut across her again.

"No, no that is what I'm saying." She said clearly, standing also. "You two will learn to love each other. This isn't a matter of what you want, it's what God wants. If God blessed you with this baby than that's him saying that you two ought to be together! Now, I could see postponing the ceremony until after the baby's born and things are a little bit more controlled, but I swear that you two will be married a year from now!"

"No!" Charlie cried. She pushed off against the table, her chair rolling away. Once it was far enough back she stood off and left as quickly as she could, before anyone had the chance to stop her. A moment later I followed, after it was clear that Lisa would rather fight it out with Tommy's mom.

Charlotte hadn't gotten far. When I found her she was curled against the railing of the rarely-used staircase, tears running down her face as she pulled her jacket sleeves down past her wrists so that the cuffs were gathered in her fists. "I don't wanna get married!" she wailed the second she saw me.

"Shhhh," I comforted, sitting beside her and wrapping my arm around her, fitting perfectly around her like we were two pieces of a puzzle. "You don't have to. She can't make you." I whispered to her.

"But if I don't she'll make my life hell! You don't understand! If I'm here then she's gonna get her way!" she was wailing, one word barely distinguishable from the next.

"Then you won't be here." I promised. "You can come home with me and live on my farm in Tennessee. You can have your own wing of the house with a room for you and one for the baby. I can get you a private tutor so that you can keep up with work and take care of the baby. I'll do whatever it takes to make this work out the way that's best for you, Charlotte."

She was about to speak again when I noticed the sounds of squeaking feet in the lobby. Startled, I look up to see a small horde of paprazzi moving across the lobby, getting their cameras into focus. I gave Charlotte a quick squeeze and stood as they came into the little hallway where the stairs were. "Stop!" I ordered them. But when would that ever stop them? "Come on!" I pleaded, stepping in front of Charlotte. This so wasn't what we needed right now.

"Whose the girl?" one asked, stepping onto a step, trying to get a view of Charlotte at an angle. I tried to block him by crouching in front of her, extending my arms.

"None of you beeswax!" I told him. Others asked similar questions. What was I doing here? Who was she? Were we related? Was this some kind of charity thing? Just as I was beginning to feel overwhelmed Noah came out of the conference room, leaving the door wide open. He joined me, holding my hand and moving beside me so that we covered more ground. Within seconds the Lisa, Ms. Lock, and Tommy joined us. Well, Lisa did. The Locks watched us, stunned, until two of the cameramen moved towards them and began to ask questions too. They bolted.

"We have to get out of here!" Lisa told me as we heard Charlotte let out a huge sob.

"Noah?" I asked. He nodded. "On the count of three, lean over and grab Charlie's right arm, I'll get her left. Up the stairs there's an elevator we can use." She nodded. "Three, two, go!" I shouted the last word, and simultaneously we turned, grabbing Charlie and helped her up, taking the stairs two at a time while Noah tried to distract the reporters. At the top of the stairs we found a couple more hiding out, so Lisa and I made a shell around Charlie, pulling her through them. A family waiting for an elevator stared at us in shock, missing the elevator that opened seconds after we arrived. We barreled in, only letting go of Charlotte once the doors closed. She leaned heavily against wall, holding onto the banister to stay up right. Her head sagged, her forehead catching on the wall paper as she bit back more tears.

"It's okay baby doll." Lisa murmured, rubbing her back. But Charlotte shook her head and moved away from Lisa, coming to stand next me. She leaned her head on my shoulder, curling in. I held her tight with my arm, leading us forward, into my suite when the doors opened.

**Author's Note.**

Just saw the trouping company of RENT last night. Absolutely amazing. If you ever have the chance to see it, do so! Especially with any original cast memebers. I saw Anthony Rapp and Adam Pascal – AMAZING.


	13. Chapter 13

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Thirteen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Note.**

**So I have an English project where we're trying to promote different causes, and mine is Gang Prevention. If you could view my YouTube video and comment that would be awesome. The video is called: "****Help Prevent Gangs; Know the Facts"**

**Miley**

It didn't take long for Noah to follow us. He entered the room in a rush, forcing the door closed and flopping like a cartoon into the rolling armchair, which moved a little bit backward as a result. Charlie looked up at this, but didn't stop crying. She was lying against the soft backboard of our bed with a pile of pillows behind her. She had made herself as small as possible, curling in on herself like a small, scared child. At first we had tried to comfort her, but nothing seemed to work, so we decided to just let her cry, quietly.

"What do you think should happen?" Lisa asked me, flicking a piece of dust nonchalantly off of her knee.

"Whatever she wants, I guess." I answered, shrugging. "Outline all her options, let her think about it, and then all of us come to a decision we can live with."

"She can't live here," Lisa said, sounding stunned. "you don't even know, that Ms. Lock, she's so involved in everything. She controls so much of our life, it will be impossible for Charlotte to get the kind of community support she'll need after Ms. Lock spreads her side of the story."

"Then she can come home with me." I offered. "It's not like we don't have room. There's an entire extra wing that's unused, with its own little kitchen and everything. It'd be perfect for this; she can have her own, separate life caring for the baby with Noah and I just a hallway away if there's ever any trouble."

"But if she lives with you she'll be in the spotlight of Hollywood constantly. That could be devastating too! I just don't know." We fell into silence, apart from the creak of Noah's chair and the sound of Charlie's tears. I was stunned when there was a quiet knock on the door, but I got up and opened it. Tommy stepped through.

"Hey" he whispered, his voice quieter then I was expecting, "can I come in?" I nodded, letting him in before closing the door behind him.

"What do you want?" Lisa practically growled.

"Not what my mom does." He sounded shocked at how she was acting, and I couldn't blame him. Just because his mother wanted him to marry Charlotte didn't mean that he did. From what I could tell the poor kid was apologetic and scared half to death at the prospect of fatherhood. The least we could do, in my opinion, was hear him out?"

"Where is your mother?" Lisa asked, her voice softening, but only a bit. Tommy stepped into the room a bit, settling on the only soft surface left – the floor. He leaned against the wall farthest from Charlotte, and in full view of everyone but her.

"I left her. In the parking lot." His voice grew angrier with each word until he was practically spitting fire, "I told her that I didn't agree with her on this, and she said that no son of hers would abandon a girl in a time of need. That just about did it for me." He had a watch in his hand and was playing with it in his hands, needing it like dough, making the chains clink together. "I mean, I don't want to force anyone to do anything they don't want to. I'm scared as hell to be a dad, but I know I would kill myself if I wasn't there for the kid. If Charlotte doesn't want to be near me, I understand and I take full blame. I just want to be there for the kid, at least." He paused, staring unseeingly at the clinking watch. When he spoke again, his voice was back to it's whisper, but no less angry. "I know what it's like to grow up without a dad. I don't want to make anyone else go through that."

"I think we can make that work." Lisa told him. "Do you know what your mother is planning to do?"

He shook his head, shaggy hair flying everywhere. "Probably gossiping to everyone," he let out a hollow bark of a laugh. "She probably went straight to the mall to tell all the sales ladies." As the silence filled again I noticed that Charlie wasn't sobbing anymore. Looking back, I saw she was sitting up, wiping away her tears with one hand and leaning heavily on the other. She looked extremely tired.

"I want to move to Tennesse" she declared suddenly.

"What?" Lisa gaped at her, surprised beyond belief.

"Listen, I love you and I'm so grateful for everything you've done. But I can't stay here, or Tommy's mom is going to make my life hell. And I want to get to know my real mom. I'm not going to waste that chance."

"What about the papparazi?" Lisa asked, trying to cover up for her shock.

"They can't be as bad as Ms. Locke, right?" she asked, smiling a little.

"What about Tommy?" she asked, still grasping to keep hold of Charlie.

"He can fly down once and a while, I guess."

"I'm not going to be some barley-involved parent." He said, shaking his head. "I don't want to have to hear about his first steps, I want to be there for them. And for you." He stood, moving to sit across the bed from Charlotte. "Look, I know you think this is my fault, and it is. But we had something good. I don't want to just throw it away over one mistake. I can understand you being angry, but please don't give up on us that easily."

Charlotte looked down, blushing. When she spoke again her words were calculated and thrown in with an endless supply of awkward pauses. "I – I don't know. I wan tyou to be able to be there, but I don't think that I'm ready to date you again. Maybe – maybe if we can agree to just be friends for now, and see where that takes us."

"That's more than I deserve." He agreed quickly, smiling. He turned to face me, Lisa, and Noah. "So when do we leave? Tomorrow?"

Lisa shook her head. "No. We have to get all of this worked out with the adoption agency. Charlotte has to take all of her finals so she can get credit for her freshmen year. There's a lot to do before anyone moves anywhere."

**Charlotte.**

More than a month later I had passed every final, and was officially in Miley's care. My name had been mentioned on Access Hollywood once, but "the public" knew nothing, they only guessed. We were planning on holding a press conference in a week or so.

And so I was sitting on the front porch's swing sucking on a raspberry popsicle, keeping an eye on the kids while Noah, James, and Tommy lugged boxes of my stuff into the back of the car. It was a clear summer day, burning hot except for the light breeze playing with the prematurely fallen leaves. "Are you going away forever?" Alison asked. She was Lisa's kid, a bubbly soccer player who was all of eight years old.

"I'll come back to visit." I compromised, before she could get sad. "And you can visit me too."

"Will the baby be born then?" she questioned, not to be deterred.

"Probably." I told her, motioning for her to sit beside me. She did, leaning against me in the small wooden seat. With her head against my shoulder she placed a small hand on my stomach.

"She's not kicking." She said, disappointed. We had no idea the gender, but Ally insisted that it was a girl.

"Ready to go?" Miley asked, stepping through the front door.

"I guess." I responded, gently moving Ally off of me and standing up with difficulty. At thirty-three weeks pregnant my stomach was far beyond mere bulging. With the so-called "diet" my doctor had put me on I had quickly come back into the normal weight gain and could no longer hide the mound, which was still growing.

"I love you" Lisa promised, appearing behind Miley and wrapping me in a huge bear hug. I was passed from person to person, wishing well and sharing hugs. Ally, Lisa, and Aaron all cried openly, while everyone else fought to keep straight faces. A few tears trickled down my own cheeks as I got one last group hug. "Don't squish the baby!" Lisa warned as everyone pushed inward. By the time they let go I was gasping for breath as tears streamed downward. Sometime during the hug a gift had been pushed into my arms. "For the road." Lisa told me. She kissed me on the cheek and I turned, stepping into the back seat of the car. Tommy stepped in a moment later. His mother had kicked him out of the house weeks ago, and he had been living in the Nathan's spare room. At the new house, Miley told me, we would have separate rooms surrounding the baby's.

Everyone followed us down the driveway and the neighborhood road, dropping off at the first busy street. I waved until they were well out of sight.

**Author's Note.**

So I have an English project where we're trying to promote different causes, and mine is Gang Prevention. If you could view my YouTube video and comment that would be awesome. The video is called: "**Help Prevent Gangs; Know the Facts"**


	14. Chapter 14

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Fourteen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlotte**

"What do you wanna watch?" Miley asked, flipping through channels. We had arrived at the farm early in the morning and spent most of the day packing. Now, with a hot fresh-delivered Domino's pizza and cinna stix, we were set to relax until the next day.

"Just flip until we see something we like." Noah suggested. We paused for a minute on each show. Scrubs. Sister, Sister. Then we landed on the image of a teenage girl in a straight-blonde wig. "I'm a lucky girl whose dreams came true, but underneath it all I'm just like you." She belted, tears flowing from her blue-green eyes and smudging her carefully applied mascara. The camera panned out from her face to include the stage behind her, and turned then to show the audience cheering and sobbing along with the star. "I love you guys!" she shouted, and dashed off stage, her pink dress flying up behind her.

"That was my final show." Miley whispered, studying the screen. "I was pregnant then." She told me, "about two months along."

I nodded, not knowing what to say. As the view flipped to a different concert, a different day, the news reporter's voice came over the images. "Many remember the famous Hannah Montana, later revealed to be Miley Stewart, 's last concert. It wasn't until a year later that the public saw her again, pulling off the blond wig. People often wonder why she took this long time off, if she did anything important." The video suddenly changed from Miley's revealing concert to a shaky paparazzi video of her defending me on our way to a movie theater where we'd gone a week ago. "Recent evidence has come up leading to the conclusion that during the break she did more than soul searching. We, Access Hollywood, have received and exclusive tip-off that the 15-year-old girl Miley has been spending the last month with is non other than her daughter, born during that break. The girl was, as of a few days ago, adopted by Stewart after untold years in foster care. This morning, the two returned to Stewart's Tennessee farm." The television powered off. Tommy was stopped mid-bite, eyes glued to the screen. Miley looked furious.

"How could they do this? How could they! Who told them!" She was screaming.

"It's not a big deal, sweetie." Noah calmed her.

"Not a big deal? This is a violation of a minor's right to privacy! They can't do this! It can't be legal!" she was raging, throwing papers of the counter in an apparent search for something.

"Honey, honey." He whispered, walking up and putting his arm around her. "Calm down. We can make this work for us, okay? Instead of that press conference, we could do an interview. Who knows? Maybe Oprah will want to talk to you. We can use this as a way to get the story out better now. Okay?"

"I'm going to bed." Miley muttered, and she sulked off down a corridor.

Five days later a video crew arrived bright and early while I was asleep. While I ate cereal in pajamas the crew played with the living room's lighting, and Miley hurried to clear out the room so that it would look nice on television. "Which candle?" she asked, showing me two. I took each in hand. One was in a clear, stubby vase that showed off the beautiful cerulean blue of the wax. It smelled like the ocean. The other had a long white contairner and was bright pink. It smelled like sugar, almost unbearably sweet.

"What about both?" I asked.

"Both?"

"Well yeah, they could look really good together." She took them both back and arranged them on the table. "Add that little vase" I told her, and she brought over a white vase of small, rainbow-colored daisies. The flower's colors drew together the colors of the candles and balanced out the otherwise awkward vases.

"You have a future as an interior designer." She told me, "Thanks." I smiled and returned to my lucky charms.

Hours later Oprah arrived on our doorstep, already in makeup. I was scared to death to speak to her, but she kindly shook my hand and told me that it was honor that we had chosen her to break our story. I just nodded and smiled, hardly believing that I was talking to the Oprah. We went over our story with her, briefly, so that she would know what questions to ask to get more interesting information and a full story.

By the time I was ready to be interviewed I was sweating bullets. It had taken forever to convince the stylist that none of her choice were at all comfortable. Finally, we compromised – I wore one of her tops, a flowy cream colored one with pink flowers, and she let me wear my favorite pair of elastic-waisted maternity jeans and plain white-cloth flip flops. As I waited to be called out she fluttered around me, dabbing sweat away to protect my make up and adjusting the oh-so-casually placed bracelets on my arm.

**Miley.**

"Come on." Some unnamed manager urged, pulling me forward by my wrist. "We need a shot of you answering the door and asking Oprah to sit down. Behind me, she pulled Charlotte along too, and like a little duckling she followed. A camera zoomed in on us from behind, and then fell back. The doorbell rang again, and I hurried forward to pull it open, revealing Oprah with her own camera following.

"Hi," I greeted, gesturing for her to come in, and she did. We exchanged greetings and led her into the living room, careful to avoid walking to near the already-set up cameras. She asked a few light questions before delving into the deep soul-searching ones about why I gave her up for adoption, and why I had searched for her again. I tried to explain that, at the time, I knew I would never be able to care for a child, and how I only expected to visit her, not take her home with me.

"What convinced you to invite Charlotte to stay?" she asked before picking up one of the m&m's on our coffee table to munch on.

"She needed a change of scenery," I explained, "her foster family was amazing, the best you could wish for, but I felt that she needed the possibility for attention, because this pregnancy and baby are going to put such a strain on her. Their house was already so busy with soccer games, cheerleading competitions, and everything else that it would be difficult to add a newborn into the mix. I also needed to take her away from the father's mother. She is dead set on Charlotte and her son getting married, even though neither of them wanted to take their vows."

"Why do you think that is?" Oprah asked, turning to Charlie. "Do you two get along?"

"We're friends," Charlotte explained, "I want him to be there for the baby, and he wants to help out as much as possible, but neither of us feel comfortable being so committed to each other."

"But without marriage, aren't you afraid that he'll run away?"

"No." she declared with confidence. "He's a good guy, it isn't in his nature to just run away from problems. Besides, what does a ring have to do with it? So many people get divorced that the ceremony hardly seems to mean anything anymore. I don't want to get married until I'm 100% sure that I will love that person for the rest of my life. Tommy might be that guy, but he also might not. And I think that he feels the same way."

I was impressed. Earlier Charlotte had seemed skittish and shy, normally answering in a single sentence, or with only a nod. Now she was gaining in confidence and talking without being completely prompted to.

We talked for a while longer before giving Oprah a quick tour of the house. After we all took a break for lunch, sharing pizza on the open patio out back. At that point Charlotte's part of the interview was over, and after a few slices of pizza she changed into her swim suit and stepped into the pool twenty feet away. Not long after she was joined by Tommy. Two of the stylists wandered over as well, sitting on towels and dangling their feet into the cool water.

"Do you ever have any doubts about taking her in?" Oprah asked as together we watched Charlie make a perfect shot into the basket ball hoop attached to the pool's side. She and Tommy were playing a careful game of HORSE, which he was losing at. "Sometimes," I sighed, "but they're both good kids, and I'm sure they'll try their hardest, and that's all that matters. I'm not going to just give them everything they need, but if they earn it I'm happy to give them money for things, and to help them raise the kid. I'm more worried about how they'll adjust to the paparazzi. Living in the tabloids is a huge thing to get used to, and I can only hope that they adjust with a grace."

**Author's Note.**

SUMMER!


	15. Chapter 15

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Fifteen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlotte**

The next day the baby furniture that Miley and I had picked out arrived. We spent all day organizing and setting it up. When we finished around five everyone else left to pick up dinner, but I stayed behind in the room, tired and wanting some alone time.

The room was small but cozy. The walls were white on top with thick light-yellow stripes on bottom. Between was a border of cute zoo animals smiling and waving. This matched the crib, which was made of white-painted wood and had sheets and a mobile of the same design. Above the crib was my favorite part, a large frame enclosing a zoo-themed family tree that Miley had surprised me with as a gift. It extended from the baby, a little unnamed piglet, to it's parents, both labeled giraffes. On the next layer were grandparents, both of Tommy's were monkeys and fully labeled, while Miley's lioness sat beside an unnamed lion. Was she ever going to tell me who my father was? I doubted it. Almost two months had passed and I hadn't gathered the courage to ask. But I couldn't help wondering. There was very little I knew about him – only that he had brown hair and matching eyes, was talented in singing, and attended Seaview High School in Malibu, CA, class of 2011. They were friends, but not boyfriend/girlfriend. But that was it.

Maybe if I looked through an old yearbook of Miley's? No, that was snooping, that was a betrayal of her privacy when I was in so much debt to her. I could never justify it.

"What are you thinking about?" Miley asked. Shaken, I looked up to see her standing in the doorway carrying two Subway sanwhiches and two drinks.

"Nothing," I said quickly, reaching out for the sandwich she offered me.

"You were staring pretty intensely at that picture for it to be nothing." She joked, extending a hand to help me stand up. I took it and pulled myself to standing before following her into the main room of my guest suite. It was virtually it's own small apartment. There were two bedrooms, each with their own bathroom, although the baby's bathroom also acted as the "main" one for any visitors. Down the hall was a main room with a small, separated kitchen, tiny dining room, and a simple living room. It was small, but we wouldn't need much space, and I didn't dare complain because Miley was being so generous.

"I," I stuttered, "I was wondering about my dad." I looked down, focusing on my sandwich as she unwrapped her own.

"Oh." She sighed, putting down her wrap. "Him."

"It's just, I really want to know who he is. If I'm anything like him. What he does, where he lives. That kind of stuff."

"Charlotte, he doesn't know anything about you. I left without telling anyone. Only my family knew about me and you until a couple of weeks ago."

"Are you even still in contact with him?" I asked, trying to keep the accusation out of my voice. She nodded.

"Yes, I am. He . . . Charlotte, I can't have this discussion right now."

"Why not?" I challenged, growing angry.

"Because I said so." She fired back, "I need to talk to him and his wife, to explain everything to them before I tell you."

"Why does he get to know before I do?"

"Charlotte, that's just how it is. Okay?"

"No," I yelled, "It's not okay. I want to know, I need to know. I've been wondering for nearly fifteen stupid years and I can't just stop with finding you. I need to know who he is, because it's part of who I am!"

"You will know," Miley explained, trying not to scream, "just give me a week, okay?"

"Why do you need a whole week? What's so wrong with right now?"

"Because right now everything is so comp-"

"Sorry to interrupt," Noah said, peering shyly through the door, "but Miley, your dad's on the phone, and he doesn't sound happy." Miley sighed and pushed off from the table, walking out of the room and taking the phone with her.

I sighed myself, picking up the sandwich again. That wasn't how I wanted the conversation to go at all.

Miley returned twenty minutes later. "Hey," she said, sitting across from me, alone in a thick armchair, "you might not know about your father for a while, but I have someone else for you to meet." I looked up from my magazine, which I had been glaring at purposefully to avoid eye-contact with Miley. "Who?" I asked. "How would you feel about meeting Gemma Starr?"

**Miley**

The concert ended with a bang, Gemma belting out her number-one hit to screams and cheers, as noisy a crowd as Hannah had ever received. As the final note faded and she began to say goodbye to the audience I pulled at Charlie's hand, making sure we beat the rush out of the auditorium. We moved in a clump, squeezing past bouncy tweens and overprotective mothers until we reached the side door. I handed out VIP passes to Charlotte, Tommy, and Noah before we moved on, parading proudly passed the security guards. Four minutes later we were directly back stage, watching through a side stage entrance as Gemma through a final kiss at the audience and bounced off.

"That was great" a familiar voice promised. Looking around a set piece I saw dad throwing a towel around Gemma's shoulders and leading her towards the dressing rooms. "Go cool down before we go sign some autographs, all right?" she nodded and kept moving as he fell back, turned around, and headed for us. I took the leading, running forward and falling into his arms before he could reach everyone else.

"Hi daddy," I murmured, holding him tight.

"Hey baby girl." He replied, squeezing back. "How have you been?"

"I'm managing." I told him quickly. We let go of each other. "I'm glad you suggested this, though. The timing couldn't have been better."

"You know me, perfect timing's my thing." He joked. Together we walked back to the rest of the group. First Noah greeted dad with a kind handshake.

"Tommy, Charlotte, this is my father." I introduced them, "Daddy, this is your granddaughter Charlotte and her friend Thomas."

"Hey Charlie." He whispered, inviting her into his arms. For a second she looked nervous, before giving in and hugging him back. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." He said.

"Same here." She said, her voice a wavering whisper close to tears.

"The last time I held you, you were so tiny." His own voice was cracking. "I never thought I would get the chance to see you again." He straightened up, brushing away a tear. "I'm not going to lose you again." He turned to face Tommy, shaking his hand, "and you better take care of my little girl, you hear?" he nodded, looking a little taken aback.

"Of course, Mr. Stewart."

"Mr. Stewart," dad scoffed, "we're practically family. Please, call me Robby." He smiled. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but I need to get Gemma out to sign some autographs."

"We'll come with you." I offered.

"Miley, honey, I don't know if that's the best idea." He sighed, "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay?"

As he turned his back my cell phone vibrated. I picked it up and flipped it open, pressing it against my ear. "Miley," gasped an anxious, all-too familiar voice, "did we have a kid?"

**Author's Note.**

Go Nats! I'm going to camp for two weeks starting Sunday so I'll try to update Saturday and then I'll have a chapter ready when I return.


	16. Chapter 16

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Sixteen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Shhh!" I warned, stepping away from Charlotte, Tommy, and Noah so that they wouldn't hear.

"Don't shush me! I want to know! I have a right to know!"

"This really isn't a conversation we should be having over the phone." I tried to explain, hoping that he would calm down.

"Ya know what? This isn't a conversation we should have to be having now. I should have been told about this fifteen years ago, Miley. So don't tell me when we can cannot have this conversation. Just give me the damn answer."

"Yes, okay? I found out I was pregnant, wanted to save my career, and ran off to Tennessee. We found a nice couple to adopt the kid, had her, and I came back to Malibu. That's the story."

"Why wasn't I a part of that story? Why didn't you tell me? I would have been there for you. I want to have been there for you, and for her." He was whining, almost crying.

"Because if I told you you'd've wanted to get married!" I yelled, as if it wasn't obvious.

"And would that have been so terrible?"

"No," I admitted. "You're a great guy, and you'll be a great father, but if I'd told you and we'd gotten married you wouldn't be with the love of your life right now. You wouldn't have married her two months ago and had your happily ever after. I guess in some convoluted way, you could say that I did what I did in the name of true love."

"Don't act the hero!" he screamed, furious. "What you did was wrong and I can't believe anyone could be able to do something as horrible as not letting the father know he had a kid!"

"Does it help that I'm sorry?" I asked hopefully. He sighed, and a moment later the phone clicked off. I sighed back and placed the phone in my pocket. Before  
I had a chance to return to Charlotte Noah came up to me, his hands warm on my shoulder.

"It's okay." He assured me, wrapping his arm around my stomach and pulling me against his chest. "He'll come around."

I turned in his arms, resting my head on his shoulder. "but what if he doesn't?"

"He will, because he wants to know his daughter, and he knows that he can't do that unless you let him. Now come on," he wiped the one, lone tear from my eye. "Cheer up."

**Charlotte.**

An hour later we had returned home. Robby Ray came with us for coffee and talking while Gemma, after giving me a couple autographs to send back to the Nathan's, returned to her hotel room for the night. At first the conversation had stretched to include all of us, but it eventually constricted to the entertainment industry, leaving Tommy and I to make conversation. After a long pause, Tommy spoke, swirling his hot chocolate in the mug.

"Are you scared?" he asked nervously.

"As hell." I muttered. "I'm scared that she'll come early, and that it'll hurt. I'm afraid that I won't know what to do, or how to act. That I won't know how to hold her, or how to feed her. I have no idea how to do this stuff!" Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, and I wiped them away, but not before Tommy took notice.

"You'll be okay." He told me, holding me tight.

"How do you know?" I asked, "how can you be so sure when I'm not sure of anything?"

"Because," he whispered in my ear, so that only I could hear. "the key to success is to believe in yourself."

" Then I'm gonna fail." I whined, brushing away more tears.

"Oh baby," Miley whispered, and I realized that the room had gone silent, that everyone was focused on me and my stupid blubbering. She began to rub my shoulders as Tommy passed me tissues. "I know you'll be a great mom. And we'll all be here for you, every step of the way. For every worry, every painful contraction, and every time your baby cries I'll be here to help."

"And you're not doing this alone." Tommy promised, taking my hand. "I said that I was going to be here for you, and I'm not going back on my promise."

**Miley.**

Early the next morning I woke up to the annoying ring of my cell phone.

"Hello?" I asked, to groggy to screen the caller-ID.

"I'm here," Oliver declared, "outside your house, and I want to meet my daughter."

**Author's Note.**

Sorry I didn't update Saturday – but I have internet here so it's all cool!


	17. Chapter 17

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Seventeen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Oliver!" I whispered furiously, closing the front door behind me. Oliver had grown in the years since high school. He had never gained any extreme muscle, but he did have enough to pull ever so slightly on his Hawaii T-shirt. He had also cut his long, goofy hair short to look more serious. "You can't just come barging in here!"

"Well, you can't keep my daughter from me! I have a right to see her!" He reached for the doorknob but I blocked him, taking the handle in my own hands.

"She's not five Oliver! She's fifteen, she has feelings and she's not exactly at her most stable right now. She fell to pieces in stress just last night! If you come in you'll just add more stress."

"Miley, I can't just ignore her existence, she's my daughter and I want to meet her!"

"I never said you couldn't!" I contradicted. "I said not right now. She's barely been in Nashville a week, in the past two days she's been interviewed by Oprah and met my dad. I think that's enough for her to deal with right now."

"Come on, she's gotta want to meet me! Won't meeting her dad take some strain off of her?" he was pleading, begging with the little psychoanalysis he'd gained from Lily and I dragging him to romantic comedies in high school.

"Ollie." I said firmly. "Just a couple of days. I'm begging you."

"No!" He insisted, trying to push me aside and failing.

"Oliver Oscar Oken!" I shrieked, pushing his shoulders so that he stumbled back but didn't fall over. "Listen to yourself! Do you really want her first memory of you to be angry? The first time she meets you to be in a hospital room after you beat me, her mother, into a pulp to get to her? Come on! Just calm down!"

"How can I?" he bit back, glaring straight into my eyes, "How can I be calm when I have a fifteen year old daughter that I've never met. That, until two days ago, I didn't even know existed. How could you not tell me, Miley? How could you keep her from me for all these years?"

"I haven't exactly been seeing her either, Oliver."

"Yeah," his voice sparked with anger, "but at least you had that option. And how could you just forget about her? How could you leave her here, on the other side of the country?"

"I had to." I muttered.

"Oh don't give me that shit." He snapped. "You chose to take the easy road and let someone else raise our daughter!"

"The easy road?" I asked, incredulous. "There was nothing easy about it! You didn't have to get up every half an hour for two months straight to use the bathroom! You weren't the one being punched in the gut for hours on end! You didn't have to give up your dream, your home, and your friends to live on a farm for a year! To live with people who your situation was a disappointment to, and see that disappoint every stupid day. You weren't the person who had to look through couples to choose to give your baby to." Somewhere in my speech anger had turned into tears flowing full force down my cheeks. "You didn't go through hours upon hours of torturous pain to give up your perfect, wonderful baby girl to a deserving couple. You didn't struggle with depression for months afterward! And you didn't spend every day of the last fifteen years wondering whether you made the right decision, and how that kid is doing." I wiped the tears off on the back of my hand but it did no good. "You didn't have to live with that guilt, that self-hate, did you? No! You had a perfect fairy-tale life. You went to college and got a good job, married the girl of your dreams, the freaking girl next door in all those fairytales. So you know what? I'm sorry." I screamed. "I'm sorry for doing you a favor!"

"A favor?" he asked, his voice barely a breath. "If I had known you would have been doing all of us a huge favor! She would have known her parents, and we would have known her! We could have raised her well, and maybe she wouldn't have gotten into this situation in the first place."

"You would have married me." I told him. "And I couldn't live with myself if I took you away from Lily, Oliver. You two were meant to be together, everyone has been able to see that since high school! I would have killed myself if I had ruined your destiny."

"Maybe if I had been told, I would have a different destiny." He growled.

"Look, Oliver, we can fight over who's wrong and who's right another time. Right now Charlotte is asleep, safe and sound and most importantly happy. You can meet her in a few days, I just want to give her some time to adjust to Tennessee and paparazzi and all of this. Okay?"

"Meet me at Red Robin's, noon on the sixteenth." He growled, turning down the walk towards the pile of paparrazi waiting just outside of the gate.

"Thank you." I whispered, stepping inside.

**Charlotte.**

"What's the surprise?" I begged, pleading for what seemed like the hundredth time in our short car ride.

"Charlie." Miley begged, sick of my questions. I sighed, setting back in the seat in anger. Our driver, Josh, swung the car around the corner and glided easily up to the drop-off. Before the cameramen could open their own doors Miley pulled me through the doors where I knew we were safe. Miley jerked me past the waiter's stand and down a small flight of stairs into the main seating area. There she took a fast right and we found ourselves in a small, secluded corner by the small area waiters used to fill drink orders and print bills. The only table was half-occupied; the Nathan's nephew, Oliver, was sitting there, his blonde wife, Lily, nestled into him.

"Hey" he greated, looking up, then did a double take. "Oh sorry." He stood and hugged me as he spoke, "Hi Charlotte." He was grinning as he pulled back, leaving his heavy hands on my shoulders. "Long time no see." He kissed my forehead, but I couldn't move. What was Oliver, my normally quiet, distant, and slightly awkward kind-of cousin doing hugging and kissing me? "Didn't Miley tell you?" he asked, looking concerned at the confusion on my face. "Charlotte," he said, his voice almost a whisper, "I'm your father."

"My father?" I croaked. "You – you're my dad?" he nodded encouragingly.

"Yeah, I'm your dad and, well you've met Lily before. I guess she's your step mom."

"My step-mom." I whispered. I was trying to take it all in, to process this new wealth of information, but the only thing I felt were the unreleased tears welling up behind my eyes. Tears brimmed the edges of my vision and toppled over my eye-lids, rolling down my cheeks. Before anyone could react to my tears I jumped forward, wrapped my arms around Oliver's muscled torso, and rested my head in the corner of his neck.

"It's okay, baby." He whispered into my ear. "I've been waiting forever to meet you too."

**Author's Note.**

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.


	18. Chapter 18

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Eighteen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"… Therefore, I believe that Charlotte should come home with me." Oliver finished. It was almost sunset and we were sitting out on the patio. Shadows had fallen over the lawn and fake tiki lamps glittered in the pool's reflection and the sun tried to hold on to it's reign for as long as it could. Just as he finished a breeze rippled through, reminding us of the cool night to come. Charlotte was already cocooned in a heavy fleece blanket, only her head peaking through the top. She was leaning back on the porch swinging, relying on Noah to support her weight.

"Well that's all well and good Oliver," I protested, " but you haven't factored in the paparazzi!"

"Why should I?" He asked. "I thought you said they didn't matter."

"Ollie," I sighed, "Noah and I, we're A-list. This story is so hot, they're not just going to say 'oh well, now she's living with her dad. Better go find a new story'. No! They'd follow you, and I doubt that you're equipped to handle them."

**Charlotte.**

Dad argued back his point, but I couldn't hear a word he had said. The fuzzy blanket wrapped up to my ears muffled every words he said, but it didn't matter. I wasn't going to move. I was just five weeks from my due date and had made such a big deal about finding a doctor that I trusted. It would be impossible to find one wherever Oliver lived and gain enough trust to let him or her deliver my baby. No way was I moving anytime soon.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked, sounding a bit concerned. I was lying with my head on a pillow in his lap as I curled into the soft cushion on the porch swing. As I lay he swirled his finger into one of my corkscrew curls. That, I guess, summed up our relationship. I was entirely comfortable around him – he was one of the few people I let touch my hair, and I was comfortable being close to him – but we didn't speak much. It was nice, knowing that he was there to talk if I needed to, but having no pressure to make conversation in an otherwise awkward silence.

"I'm fine." I assured him, "just a little cold and sleepy."

"You can go to bed if you'd like." He offered. I though about it for a minute. I wasn't tired enough to go to bed, but I was no longer able to force myself to focus on the adult's boring, pointless argument.

"Thanks. I think I will." I told him. He helped me stand and watched as I turned the corner and headed down to Tommy and me's room. When I arrived in our space I grabbed a silver package of two poptarts from the open box on the counter and walked into my room.

Originally I had taken up the one bed, while Tommy slept on the couch's pull out. But as my due date neared I started waking up from more and more terrifying nightmares, causing Tom to come in and comfort me. A week ago we had finally made the switch to sleeping together permanently. Currently he was sprawled across the bed with a red bull in one hand and an almost-empty bag of dorritos in the other. His eyes were glued to the television screen which was tracking the movement of a baseball played dressed in brilliant white as he sprinted to third.

"What's the score?" I asked, setting up some pillows so that I could lean back comfortably.

I didn't hear him say the score, and within five minutes I was asleep with the poptarts, still unopened, in hand.

Suddenly I jerked awake to the sound of my bedroom door slamming. Bright lights blinded my eyes. I blinked away the sleep clouding my vision until I could see that someone was pulling open one of my dresser drawers. I blinked. The woman had dark blond hair, and was wearing an unflattering black and blue dress. When the drawer didn't give to her pulling she only yanked harder, until it came out and fell with a crash onto the floor. She pushed half of its contents into a huge trash bag in her arms, and then went after the next drawer. As she stood back up I caught a glimpse of her face in the large mirror – it was Tommy's mother. What should I do?

Suddenly Tommy burst in. He was purposeful, angry, and each word he spat was filled with hatred. "You can't do this!"

"Oh I will and I can." His mother snapped, not even looking up from her work.

"Mom, I want to know my kid. I want to help Charlie. I want to be here!" He was screaming, his face turning red as he tried to grab the bag from her. But she was too quick and moved it from his reach.

"You are not staying here under the eyes of all of America!"

"Mom this isn't about the stupid papaa-"

"Yes." She screamed, turning to face him. "Yes it is, Tommy. I don't want our family business all over every goddamn newspaper in America!"

"It isn't our family business anymore, mom. You made that perfectly clear back in that hotel in Virginia. This is my business and if I need to deal with the paparazzi to know my kid and be there for his or her mother then that's what I'm going to do, because I need to do what I know is right. Not what some stupid book says, but what I know in my heart. But I know you could never understand that, at least not after dad left."

"Thomas you are going to come home with me and God help me you will lead a normal, happy, quiet life. Now get in the car." She turned her back again, throwing the last of his clothes into a second bag. "And take this with you." She handed him the first bag. Instead of taking it, he backed away, his arms up.

"Come on, Charlie." He said, extending a hand towards me. I took it and he helped me up, pushing me behind his back.

"Thomas!" she yelled, shaking the bag at him.

"One the count of three."

"Tommy I can't run!" I begged. I could hardly walk – each step wobbled more by the day.

"Just to the baby's room." He said even quieter. "One. Two."

"Thomas."

"Three!" he screamed, and we bolted around the corner. He immediately threw his weight onto the door and locked it tight before moving on to the outer bathroom door. As he locked it I sat back on the corner of the rocking chair's ottoman, wresting a hand on each knee.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sitting behind me on the chair.

"Yeah, yeah it's just my back, like normal." I almost laughed a bit. After such a shock I was only worried about my sore back.

"Let me get that." He whispered, rolling his powerful hands over my shoulders and working his slow way south.

"Thanks." I sighed. "So what happened?"

"She just appeared out of the blue and insisted that I go home with her." He explained. "It was the randomest thing. One second I had left our room to grab an extra trash bag, next second she stormed in and started screaming at me. It was scary."

"I bet."

"Thomas!" she screamed, pounding on our door. "Thomas you open this door right now!"

Thomas sighed but didn't get up. After a few minutes she stopped hammering the door and left us in peace.

"She'll be back." Tommy muttered. Two minutes later we heard the sound of the key sliding into the lock. We froze as the door swung open. There was Miley, holding onto the spare key, with Tommy's angry mother behind her.

"Guys I know you don't want to do this," she said quietly, "but legally, we can't stop her from taking you, Tommy. So please stop making this harder than it has to be."

"But Mo-" I started.

"No buts. This is just how it is." She said, sighing. "Tommy why don't you help Noah and your mom drag the bags out to her car, okay?"

"I love you." Tommy whispered, wrapping his arms around me. I felt safe in his arms as he kissed my cheek briefly. "I'll figure something out." He promised. "Remember that I love you." And he stepped away, quickly replaced by Miley. I turned away from her. Why did she have to go whipping out the spare key?

"I'm sorry about this Charlotte, I really am." She told me, her voice soft. "but you have to know that there's absolutely nothing I can do about it."

Ten minutes later, he was gone.

Five minutes after I cried myself to sleep, alone in the rocking chair.

**Author's Note.**

I had to do it.


	19. Chapter 19

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Nineteen**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlotte.**

I was uncomfortable again. It was only the third time since I first tried to go to bed, but it felt like the hundredth. I had tried my back and both sides, legs curled and uncurled, hand under the pillow and not. Nothing worked. I was tired and frustrated and just wanted to get the baby out so I could get some peace and quiet. In a huff I stood and waddled across the hall and into the baby's room. As I moved more the baby kicked up a storm so that by the time I was comfortably seated in the rocking chair my organs had been reduced to bruised soccer balls.

In the frame above the babies' crib was the family tree, with Oliver added.

Most of the room was an organized mess – two weeks ago Miley and I had gone yard sale hopping to get most of the baby's clothes before filling in the holes at Babies R Us. I had thrown the bags down on my way to a much needed nap and hadn't picked them up since. Slowly, I lowered myself onto the ground. After a minute of awkward crawling I was seated between the pile and the dresser. I began to fold, and my mind wandered with the brainless task.

Since Tommy had left I'd begun to question myself more. I was like he had been the cork bottling up my worry. The day after he left I'd been bombarded with so many problems I hadn't realized when he had been around. Now they were fewer and far between, but hit just as hard. How was I going to support myself? Right now Miley was paying for everything, insisting that she'd rather have me in school then in a job every time that I tried to thank her. But what about when the baby came? Or when I graduated high school? Would I even be able to graduate high school? It was late August and I'd hardly heard mention of the subject. I wanted to finish high school, but did that mean public or private? And what about homeschooling?

I paused in my work to grab a nearby pen and paper and record my questions.

And a more immediate concern – the birth. I'd heard the pain was unbelievable, but also that it was a miracle to be cherished. I knew that I was giving birth in a hospital – I was too scared not to – but I what I didn't know was _how. _ My doctor had given me a pamphlet of all the options the hospital offered, and some of them were things I'd never thought possible, like giving birth under hypnosis, or in a bathtub. She had confided in me that hypnosis only worked on some, and that water births were supposed to be less painful for whatever reason, so I'm considering it. The idea had never even occurred to me, but maybe when the time came they would suddenly seem realistic.

She had also outlined many options for pain management from the well-known epidural to lesser drugs. I knew from stories that my own birth had been unmedicated, more for speed that anything else. Although most first births were slow, Miley told me, it was a Stewart family trait to go through labor, at least the end of it, very quickly. In her case the doctor was hesitant to order the epidural because she was going so slowly. When he finally ordered it she was further along in labor then most women, and by the time the nurse arrived only thirty minutes later, she needed to push.

Personally, I was afraid of pain, but I also wanted to test myself. Could I make it? I knew I'd feel so proud of myself if I got through without medication, but I didn't know if I'd find it worth it when I was actually in labor.

And then there was parenthood. Was I ready? I'd read a couple of books about caring for infants up through their first year, but I had no experience as the sole caretaker of a tiny baby. The idea had been daunting enough at first when I would be co-parenting with Tommy, but on my own? I could only pray I wouldn't scar the poor kid! And how was I supposed to deal with the questions that were bound to pop up when he or she was older about daddy? Should I tell them the truth; that his mom wouldn't let him be a father, or lie? I guess there was no reason to lie. Hopefully, by the time the kid was old enough to ask he wouldn't be in his mom's control any longer.

I've been trying to contact Tommy since his mother dragged him away, sending e-mails and texts with updates at least five times a day. But so far, nothing. I hadn't tried to call yet, figuring that it would only get him into more trouble. Hopefully, he would see my texts and try to call when his mom wouldn't find out.

**Miley.**

"Hey" Noah whispered. He was leaning over me, his lips tickling my cheek with his hot, close breath.

"Hi." I whispered back, smiling.

"Have you forgotten something?" he asked, his voice turning more serious as he sat back on his heels.

"Like what?" I asked, sitting up. He nodded at the calendar beside my bed. It was an overview of the entire year. The middle week of every month had little red dots next to their numbers, except for August.

"To mark that."

I blushed, letting my bangs falling in my face as I turned away from him. "No."

"No what?" he asked, watching me get up. I took the calendar and pushed it into my first drawer before looking straight at him.

"No I didn't forget." I said clearly before turning my back on him and walking into our bathroom. He followed me, sitting on the lip of our bathtub and watching my every move as I brushed my teeth and put product in my hair. I grabbed the clear container of my face powder and looked up, to see him staring at me in the mirror. Our eyes locked. I turned. "Look, I'm probably just late."

"You've never been late before."

"Yeah I have." I contradicted, opening the container and beginning to put on my makeup.

"Since when?" I didn't respond. Since I'd started tracking it four years ago I'd yet to miss, or be more than two days late. I was now over a week late.

"It's probably just stress." I shrugged it off.

"Miley," he said plainly. "Stress? You can't really believe that, can you? I mean in the past you've handled a double identity – late night concerts and then first period tests. You've juggled worldwide concert tours with movies and award shows. Once you shot a scene in a movie, went to award show, performed a full-blown party, and went to the after party all in one day. All your doing right now is recording and the occasional guest appearance or interview. That's not nearly as stressfull."

"So it's not stressful to suddenly find my daughter, who I'd thought I'd never see again, and deal with her unplanned pregnancy?" I snapped, closing the container so hard the glass cracked. It created a small cut in my thumb that I sucked.

"All of that's stressful," he agreed, handing me a small bandage, "but you've been dealing with it for months."

"I can't be pregnant." I whispered, finally facing him by leaning against the counter.

"It'd be okay if you were, it's not like we're not going to get married."

"I couldn't deal with my dad's disappointment." I told him fiercely, "not again."

"Hey, hey, hey," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me. "It's not like last time, Miley. This time your engaged to be married. I promise you, it'll be okay."

"But-"

"Let's stop this conversation." He said, "with a definite answer." He pushed a pregnancy test into my hands.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, turning over the box in my hands.

"There was a sale," he explained with a shrug. "I thought we'll need them someday, so why not buy them now."

I sighed and opened the box.

**Author's Note.**

Suspense!

My first chapter written entirely on Microsoft Word 2007.


	20. Chapter 20

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twenty**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Charlotte," I whispered, "Charlotte honey get up." She stirred. An eyelid cracked open.

"What?"

"Get up!" I whispered, taking her hand. She moved slowly, first swiveling to face out of bed, then standing, and finally walking. "Come on!" I nagged, pulling her out the door without even putting on her slippers.

"But my clothes-"

"You're fine in your pajamas." I promised, dragging her into the garage where my driver and body guard were waiting. She let me push her into the backseat without protest, still groggy from sleep.

"What are we doing?" she asked, leaning heavily against her side of the car as I buckled myself in.

"You'll see." I promised.

Twenty minutes later we had picked up milkshakes and fries at McDonald's before arriving in front of a tall building mostly made out of glass at the outskirts of Hollywood. "What's this?" Charlie asked, staring at the building in awe.

"This. Is Heaven." I proclaimed, helping her out of the car. As Ken, my bodyguard, moved around us the paparazzi began to emerge from their cars, but we beat them inside the doors of the glamorous building.

"Ahh hello Miley," a woman with a smooth voice greated as she came into step with us, "it's nice to see you back."

"It's nice to be back," I assured her. "So where to first?"

"Wardrobe, I think." She said, whipping out a clipboard. "Yes, wardrobe." We had arrived at a back of elevators. Instantly a set of doors opened. She stepped inside and pressed the button for our floor before stepping out again. "Enjoy yourselves." She advised as the doors closed. It was just then that I noticed Ken had also fallen back. The building had their own team of security to protect it's famous clients, making him unnecessary.

"Are you going to tell me what we're doing here?" Charlie asked as she clutched the elevator's rails.

"We are going to an award show." I told her. "I thought this would be a good mother-daughter bonding experience."

"Mom," Charlotte groaned, sounding exasberated, "I'm tired and I'm fat."

"You are not fat, you are pregnant and you are glowing." I insisted. "And you need this." I was hoping that the outing, the girliness, and the red – well, green – carpet would distract her from the depression that she had sunk into since Tommy had left. Besides I needed to celebrate the miracle of that negative test – and my late period.

**Charlotte.**

Miley and I spent all morning deciding on dresses and hairstyles. I finally decided on a dress made out of a white cloth with a fancy bright pink print. It tied at the waist with a darker pink ribbon and bunched into a bowtie at my neck. The hem came just above my knees. Paired with simple sandals with an almost non-existent heel and a pink coach bag it was stylish, comfortable, and age appropriate. I had also decided to tame my normally poufy and wild curls into a messy-on-purpose bun with the front hairs falling into my face and thin strips of pink ribbon braided in.

In the limo Miley sat across from me. She had chosen a bright green v-neck that swooped low to a high waist but covered everything. The fabric then flowed down in layers looking like an upside-down rose. The edges were lined in a thin lace of rhinestones that matched her silvery heels. A stylist had knotted her hair into an elegant bun, pulling back stray hairs with decorative bobby pins.

I asked, "What award show is this?" as the crowded city streets roll bye.

"It's the Country Music Awards." Miley answered. "I was nominated for my latest album."

"We're here." Miley announced. I glanced out the window. Event organizers were juggling the traffic of abandoned limos as their glitzed-out owners began to grace the red carpet. Fans lined some portions, held back by bodyguards and velvet ribbons, while later down the line were journalists. We stepped out onto the carpet and were greeted by an overwhelming thunder of sound. Fans fought for autographs and writers shouted questions creating a loud jumble. I stayed a step behind Miley, watching as she graciously offered to sign fan's books, making sure to pay attention to each. Then we turned towards an area with more cameras then fans.

Miley swung her arm around my waist and led me up to the closest camera marked with the symbols of a major news station, locking me in for an interview.

"Hello Miley and Charlotte." The interviewer greeted, not missing a beat. "Are you excited about your nomination, Miley?" she asked before leaning the microphone towards her.

"Of course I'm always excited at these shows!" she exclaimed shining her bright smile for the camera.

"And what about you, Charlotte? Is it exciting to be at your first award show?"

"Yeah," I stammered, "it's a lot different then I thought it would be, but I can't wait to see the actual show."

We continued talking to her for a few more moments before Miley led me a way. "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked.

"I guess not." I sighed, rubbing my lower back. It was aching horribly.

"Come on, we have to do another few or my publicist will kill me." She explained, taking my hand. I followed her to a different set of interviewer-and-microphone. This time it was a Hollywood Gossip show.

"Hello," the man greated, shaking our hands, "and how are you today?"

"Nervous." Miley answered simply with a fake, shy smile.

"What about you miss Charlotte?" he asked, placing a slimy arm around my shoulder. "How's that baby?"

"Fine." I answered, trying to shrug him off. "We're all doing fine."

"Well that's good to hear." He said. "It must be difficult adjusting to this Hollywood lifestyle."

"Yeah, sometimes." I told him, "but mom's been great helping me to adjust, and I haven't really been to Hollywood yet."

"You haven't?"

"Nope," I explained, "I'm not really allowed to," as I rubbed my bulging stomach. This far into the pregnancy I wasn't allowed to fly and the long car ride would have been unbearable between my achy back and swollen feet.

"Ahh, right." He said, "well, thanks for the interview. And good luck with the nomination, Miley."

"Sorry about him," Miley whispered as we moved on, "I didn't check who we were heading towards."

An hour later we were seated and the show was in full swing, switching between powerful performances and lengthy award speeches. Finally, Miley's category came up.

"And video of the year goes to…" Taylor Swift announced, opening the envelope, "Miley Stewart." A camera zoomed in on mom as she squeezed my hand and stood, walking towards the stage. I watched her hug Taylor and take the award in her hands, beginning the short speech she'd rehersed in the car. But just as she started thanking her father for getting her into the music business I was distracted by an intense pain in my lower back. Panicking, I grabbed my knees and drew in a sharp breath. The pain mounted. I knew no one around me. Oh sure, I knew their names and some of their recent hits, but I'd never spoken a word to any of them. The pain burned, spiraling outward before fading, just as the crowd erupted in applause for Miley. I joined in, not wanting to stand out.

Slowly, Miley left the stage her face beaming into the great smile she was named for. She kept stopping to talk to friends along the aisles, and it seemed to take forever for her to return. Finally, she sat down.

"Congrats, mom." I said, hugging her.

"Aww thanks sweetie." She replied, hugging back. Just then I decided not to say anything – it was probably false labor, right? I mean I still had three weeks to go. Two more awards were announced before they announced the next category she was up for. But just as they started listing off the nominees another pain hit. I did what seemed automatic – my left hand jumped into Miley's right, my right onto my knee. She looked over and I new my face must be showing my pain because she looked so worried. As they announced her name she grabbed her purse and put an arm around me.

"Come on," she whispered. The pain died as we left the row, ignoring the cheers as her name was announced again.

**Miley.**

My heart was pounding a mile a minute as we waited for Charlotte's doctor to appear. She hadn't had any contractions since the one during the awards, which seemed like a good sign, but I had no way of knowing. Charlie was flipping through channels before stopping on a news station.

"Miley Stewart left the CMT awards halfway through this afternoon with her guest and daughter Charlotte Stewart. The rumor is that Charlotte, who is about 8 months pregnant, went into early labor. The evidence is this video clip taken by a videographer at the awards show who was assigned to tape Miley as one of her nominations was announced." The show switched to a close-up of Charlotte and I as she grabbed my hand, closed her eyes, and bit her lip simultaneously. "There is no news yet of whether she is truly in labor." The tv clicked off, and I turned to look at Charlotte. The nurse had made her take off her dress to put on the uniform hospital gown. She was sitting on the edge of her bed, refusing to lie in it like they wanted her to. She was slumped over the railing looking bored and a bit sad.

"I'm sorry mom." She whispered, not looking at me. "I ruined your awards."

"Oh Charlie," I sighed, sitting behind her to rub her back. "This isn't your fault. Besides I don't know what I would have said for those other awards. You saved me from having to come up with a speech on the spot which Lord knows I can't do."

Before she could reply the nurse entered the room. "Dr. Fearen is busy delivering twins. I'm here to tell you that it was just Braxton Hicks contractions and your free to go." She said without looking up from her chart. After a few seconds she looked up, "I'd advise taking the back enterance, the front is full of paparazzi." And she turned and left.

"Thank you," I told her back as she shut the door.

**Author's Note.**

That whole Braxton hicks thing was not in my chapter plan.


	21. Chapter 21

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twenty One**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

I ducked out into the hallway while Charlotte changed into the jeans and shirt I had brought with us for after the show.

"You ready?" I asked, holding my cell phone to my ear. It crackled back before the person on the other end answered.

"We just landed."

"Great," I whispered, "we'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

**Charlotte.**

I was glad when we finally got into the car, away from the flashing lights and shouted questions. Miley was flipping through an old CD case left in the car.

"Oh listen to this!" she ordered, putting in a green disc. "I absolutely loved this song when I was in your position." The song opened with a quick guitar intro before I heard the voice I remembered from years ago when her music filled the house. Shania Twain.

_I'm gonna hold on--  
'cause what I believe in is so strong  
No matter how long, no one  
Can tell me I'm wrong--I ain't goin' down_

I had a baby at fifteen--  
daddy never did forgive me  
I never heard from the guy again  
I had to drop outta high school--  
everybody treated me so cruel  
But I didn't give in and giver her away

I'm gonna hold on--  
'cause what I believe in is so strong  
No matter how long, no one  
Can tell me I'm wrong--I ain't goin' down

Her smile got me through the day--  
and every night I'd pray  
I could give her enough  
At night I'd lie awake and cry--  
hopin' we'd get by  
'Cause you can't live on love

I worked night and day to keep us goin'  
Through the sweat and tears  
without her knowin'  
It was worth it just to watch her grow  
Oh, oh, at least I was able to hold her  
Whenever she needed my shoulder  
I'm so glad I never let her go

I'm gonna hold on--  
'cause what I believe in is so strong  
No matter how long, no one  
Can tell me I'm wrong--I ain't goin' down

Her smile got me through the years--  
dried away the tears  
And filled me with hope  
At night I'd lie awake and cry--  
prayed we would get by  
And for the courage to cope  
Oh, oh, oh

Her smile got me through the day--  
and every night I'd pray  
I could give her enough

I'm gonna hold on--  
'cause what I believe in is so strong  
No matter how long, no one  
Can tell me I'm wrong--I ain't goin' down

_  
I'm gonna hold on--  
'cause what I believe in is so strong  
No matter how long, no one  
Can tell me I'm wrong--I ain't goin' down_

No on can tell me I'm wrong  
I ain't goin' down

I didn't know how to feel about the song. It was half motivating, half warning for the hardships that were ahead of me. How does anyone react to that? But I didn't have to, because as the song ended the car – I hadn't noticed where we were going, but it wasn't home – pulled up against a busy curb.

"I have a surprise for you." Miley told me, grabbing my hand, and pulling me out of the car. Another surprise today? The last thing I wanted to do was interact with people. Really, the best present anyone could give me would be to just let me curl up under the covers with all the seasons of Scrubs and my favorite ice cream. That would be heaven right about now. But Miley kept pulling me through the ever-moving crowd. I knew where we were. I had never been here before, but I recognized the luggage carousel and lost looks that were part of every airport in the world. So what famous person that Miley knew would I be forced to meet now? Don't get me wrong, I loved meeting her friends. Just not right now. But she wasn't pulling me ahead towards any crowd of fans that would surround a famous friend. Instead she was leading me to a large group of people watching non-descript black bag after black bag pass by. Wait. I recognized the short brown hair, slightly graying, of the only woman in the group. And the unmistakable bruise on the youngest girl's neck. I knew that scar – from a misshapen hair cut incident that had ended her mother's insistence on cutting all of the kid's hair to lower costs.

"Ohmigosh!" I screamed, wrapping my arms around the family member closest to me, my old roommate Jennifer Lauren.

"Hey Charlotte." She said, smiling. Everybody turned as I let go, and moments later I was sucked into a hug by Lisa.

"Charlie." She laughed, running a hand through my hair. "I've missed you so much."

"Back at you." I replied, snuggling into her. Soon everybody was in on the hug and I could hardly breathe.

"Watch out!" Lisa warned, "don't smoosh the baby!" Everybody fell off of us and I straightened up.

"What are you guys doing here?" I asked, incredulous, as we headed for the door.

"We couldn't not come to your baby shower." Alison explained, adjusting Jon on her hip.

"Aww you guys!"

**Miley.**

I tailed behind as Charlotte got re-acquainted with her old foster family. I felt so out of place in their world. But before I could fall into my own thoughts I heard my name.

"So has Miley been treating you well?" Lisa had asked. Charlie didn't hesitate in her enthusiastic response.

"She's the best Lisa. You won't believe how great she's been about all of this. And she completely sees what I mean about how I don't want to rely on her completely, but if I want a good education and to be a good parent I can't really worry about a job too. So she's helping me with the money as long as I keep up my grades and stuff. I really couldn't see anyone being as understanding about all of this because hardly anyone's been through it."

I glowed a little as she said this, not immediately registering the emotion. It was pride. Pride in myself, but also in Charlotte. As much as she bragged about me, I wanted to brag about her a thousand times more. She was being so brave and was thinking every big decision through. She understood the decisions she was making, and that the road would be hard, and she accepted that. It was more than I had done when I was two years older than she was now.

**Charlotte.**

The car ride home was fun, everyone talking at once, trying to catch me up on the goings on at home while asking questions about being "famous" – what was Oprah like? What was it like to walk down a red carpet?

When the car stopped at home I was the first one in the door. The room was dark for a moment before the lights burst on and everybody yelled surprise!, scaring me a little bit. But I recognized every face and knew they were all people that truly cared about me. There were my three sets of parents – my foster family and their kids, my mother and almost-step father that I lived with, and the father and step mother that visited often. There was Miley's fathers, and a few of her close Nashville relatives, including her brother Jackson and his three little girls. There were her and Noah's closest friends who didn't need to knock at the door and seemed almost to live in the mansion I now called home. And as I stood there, surrounded by people that loved me, I felt a pang of remorse for the ones I loved that couldn't be here. There was Tommy, taken away by his mother who I knew wanted with all of his heart to see me. And there was my original adoptive family. I had hardly any memories left of them, but I remembered that in their care I had felt safe and loved.

In that moment, I knew that I could get through anything with these people behind me, in memory or in reality.

**Author's Note.**

The song is "I Ain't Goin Down" by Shania Twain. No copyright infringement intended.


	22. Chapter 22

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twenty Two**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Charlotte.**

Almost two weeks after the party most of my guests had gone home. Only Robbie Ray and Lisa had stayed, promising to stay at least until the baby was born. Everything had returned to normal, except that I was to leave my walking to a minimum. So I had spent most of the last two weeks in bed watching television and reading books with whatever guest Miley could find to keep me occupied. In short, I was beyond bored. There was nothing to do, nowhere I could go, and nobody was saying anything new. So I was reduced to listening to books on tape as I finally got down to the task of organizing my baby shower gifts. I was just placing a pink onsie in its proper drawer when I familiar pain stretched over my back. I had strict orders from the doctor not to come in until the contractions were unbearable, my water broke, or the contractions were less than ten minutes apart. So far they were manageable, and I had only had about four in the last hour. So I paused in my organizing and focused on my breathing until the pain went away. It passed. I put away the onsie and stood, having finished my task. There really wasn't anything for me to do here. But it wasn't like there would be any more distractions at the hospital either.

Overcome by a sudden urge, I waddle-ran to the bathroom. As I was washing my hands afterwards I felt wetness splash into my pants. "Miley!" I screamed.

As I buckled myself into the car I had my first contraction since my water had broken – it was way more intense then any I'd had before, including the painful Braxton hicks during the awards show. I doubled over as best I could in pain, trying to focus on Lisa's soothing voice beside me. The next contraction was only seven minutes later, a considerably shorter period then the last few. I tried to focus on the sounds of the people around me in the car. Miley was swearing softly under her breath as she ordered the driver to go faster, darn it. Next to her Noah was sending one e-mail after another via blackberry to excuse his absence from set today. Across from me, Robbie Ray was doing the same, lining up a trusted friend to help his star through her concert tonight. Beside me Lisa was whispering her comforting words, trying to take my pain away.

The ride was long, almost an hour, and each contraction seemed to be longer and closer together. By the time we arrived they were a minute long and only minutes apart. The doctor had been called ahead of time, and met us at the door.

"How're you doing?" she asked, helping me into a wheelchair.

"I want that painkiller now." I whimpered, letting her wheel me past the front desk and into an already-open elevator.

"Alright." She said, pressing the button for our floor. "I have the guy ready to give you the epidural once I give the okay." She smiled. "You're lucky. Not one of my other patients has gone into labor in the past two days. I'm so bored you'll probably be sick of me by the end of this.

I would have smiled if I hadn't been hit by another contraction right then.

Ten minutes later I was all hooked up and the doctor was finally checking me out. "Sorry sweetie, but this baby's coming now or never."

"What?" I asked, breathing heavily as a contraction ended.

"If you want to give birth in the tub I might have enough time to fill it up right now, but this baby's coming full speed ahead darling." She explained.

"Start the water." I told her, taking my feet out of the stirrups.

"Alright," she chuckled. "You just sit tight."

"Easier said then done." I muttered, turning to Miley, who laughed softly.

"It'll all be over soon Charlotte." Lisa promised, rubbing the soft skin of my hand.

"I feel like it'd be over faster if they'd give me the darn meds." I muttered, making Miley laugh again. The doctor reappeared in the doorway.

"This'll take a while because the water has to be just the right temperature. Why don't you try some other positions and try to relax while you wait?" she offered, gesturing at the weird birthing tools she'd told me about weeks before. There was a large ball and an odd looking stool, among other things. I slowly made my way out of bed, moving first towards the ball. But I didn't want to sit on it – I had enough trouble balancing without it's help – and had no other ideas on how to handle it. I decided to sit on the funky stool while I looked at it. Miley came up behind me, twirling the ball on it's axis.

The doctor disappeared back into the bathroom as I contemplated the yellow ball. Suddenly a pain stronger than I'd ever imagined took hold of me. It felt like fire. I couldn't do anything but scream as tears burst out of my eyes like tiny rockets. Through the slits that my eyes had become I could barely see a small mirror propped up to view the non-existent underside of the stool (the top was like a toilet seat). And I could see what the pain meant. In the first five seconds of the pain I had gone from no glimpse of the baby, safely inside of me, to an entire head out due entirely to the strength of the contraction. But it wasn't strong enough to force out the baby's wide shoulders. I screamed an unbelievable wail as the contracting muscle tried to force both shoulders out at once and meeting a hole much too small. The pain grew as the contraction tried, again and again, to do the impossible causing me more agony then surely any other human had ever felt. But suddenly my doctor was kneeling just behind the mirror, pushing the head to one side. "Push Charlotte!" she ordered. With a great spurt of pain one shoulder slipped free. Another pain and the next was free too. And in the last push she held a squirming red baby in her arms.

I fell backwards, leaning onto Miley behind me. "You did great." She whispered. "See what I meant? Before you knew it." I was light-headed.

"Is it a girl?" I murmered, working to get my words out.

"A little girl." Miley assured me. I smiled.

**Miley.**

"I wanted a little girl" Charlotte confided in me.

"You deserve to get what you want," I assured her, "you were amazing Charlotte. Really, spectacular."

"You didn't even need me at all" The doctor added, offering me the scissors. Leaning forward, still holding Charlotte against me, I cut where she showed me. The cord broke. But as the doctor put the baby onto a small towel beside her I noticed what she surely had not. A growing puddle of blood beneath Charlotte.

"Doctor, is that normal?" I asked. She looked over, following me finger. At the sight of the blood her face became very pale. She handed the baby to a nurse and shouted instructions out the door to the other nurses and doctors on the floor.

"Can you hear me Charlotte?" she asked, taking her hand. Charlotte nodded. "Stay with me Charlotte. Do you hear me?" she nodded again, this time smaller. Moments later she closed her eyes, and her full weight fell onto me. "She fainted," the doctor told me, "from blood loss. I need you to leave the room." Panicking, I carefully handed Charlotte's full weight off to the doctor and left the room, my heart pounding, against the wave of nurses and doctor entering.

**Author's Note.**

Well that was intense.


	23. Chapter 23

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twenty Three**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

"Baby girl," dad said just as I left Charlotte's room, "what's wrong?" I shook my head. I couldn't find the words to explain that something, whatever it was, had gone dreadfully wrong. So he just put a hand on my back and led me into the small lounge where Noah was waiting. As I turned the corner I glimpsed Lisa stumbling behind us, looking just as lost as I felt.

Tears flooded my eyes the instant I sat down and words followed quickly after, "she's losing too much blood. She fainted in my arms a minute after the baby was born." I told them.

"I'm sure she'll be okay Miley," dad assured me, although he sounded just as uncertain as I was, "they reacted so quickly." I didn't reply, but leaned into him letting my tears stain the shoulder of his shirt.

I didn't realize that I had fallen asleep until I woke up. No more than ten minutes could have passed since I had sat down, but I was embarrassed all the same. How could I sleep at a time like this? It was dad who gently shook me awake, so that I could hear what the nurse that had come out of Charlotte's room had to say.

"We're having trouble stopping the blood flow to stabilize Charlotte." She explained, going on in detail with many medical terms that went right over my head.

"How is the baby doing?" Noah asked when the nurse had finished her speech.

"She's doing just fine in our nursery. She's a little smaller than we would have liked, but she can breathe on her own which is the important thing. You can come visit her if you'd like."

"I'd like that." I whispered, standing. Noah followed suite and soon we were all walking over to the clichéd glass window overlooking a group of uncomfortable looking bassinettes. There were no tell-tale blue or pink blankets, and the names were written in a hasty script that was hard to read from a distance. So I just watched as the nurse moved swiftly between beds to scoop up the tiniest baby and returned to our side of the glass.

"Do you know what Charlotte is planning to name her?" she asked. I shook my head – she had a couple of ideas, but didn't want to settle until she saw the baby herself.

"Hey baby." I whispered, taking her in my arms. It had been so many years since I'd held a baby – fifteen in fact. Her warm weight was comforting for my nerves as I looked at her. She had Charlotte's face shape and Tommy's little nose. She was very pale with bright, bright blue eyes and dark blonde curls.

"She's gorgeous." Noah murmured, taking her little hand. Lisa watched the baby silently, trying hard to smile.

"Why don't you hold her?" I offered, and passed the baby to her before she could disagree. She took the infant into her arms and held her close, cooing too softly for us to hear.

"You're a great grandfather." I told dad, leaning into Noah's warm arms. Dad smiled.

"Yeah, I am. But this one better not make me a great great grandfather in the next twenty or so years."

I smiled at him. "No promises."

"You should call Tommy." Noah suggested.

I shook my head. "He hasn't been answering my calls and texts. I think I'm only getting him into more trouble by trying to contact him."

"Miley," Noah said seriously, "he should know that he has a baby daughter."

I sighed and pulled out my cell, dialing his number quickly. Surprisingly, his voice greeted me after the second ring.

"Hello?" he asked.

"Hi Tommy its Miley." I said. How did I break the news to him? Should I tell him about Charlotte's situation? "I'm just calling to tell you that Charlotte had the baby – a little girl."

"Wow." He said slowly, savoring each letter in his awe. "oh geez. I'm a father."

"Yeah." I agreed.

"I wish I could be there." He confided. "How is Charlotte doing?"

I took a deep breath. "Not so well." I let the words sink in before continuing. "She's lost a lot of blood and they're still trying to stabilize her right now. But this is one of the best hospitals in the country, I'm sure that they're doing their very best."

"Yeah." He whispered in agreement. "Yeah I guess. Well thanks for calling me. Please tell me if there's any news about Charlotte and the baby."

"I'll keep you posted," I promised. "Talk to you later, Tommy."

"Bye" he muttered before I shut off my phone.

"How did he take it?" Noah asked, pulling me closer.

"I don't really know." I shrugged. "He got really quiet. I don't think that he really knows how to process the information. None of us do. We just have to hope." My voice was cracking badly as I spoke, showing my emotions.

"You can never go wrong with hope." He assured me.

We spent a few quiet minutes admiring the baby before the nurse returned her to her bed and we walked back to the small lounge. An awkward silence hung in the air until a second person, this time Charlotte's doctor, emerged from the room.

"I'm sorry, but there was nothing I could do for her." She apologized. My heart plummeted, my world broke. She was gone, after I'd only known her a few short months, my daughter was gone. "You can go say your final goodbyes." She told us before walking away. Slowly, all of us crying, we moved into her room. The machines had been turned off but the lights were on. She was resting peacefully. It looked as if she was just asleep, except that she was lying on her back, a position that I knew she never slept in. Nothing could express my emotions in that moment. I took her hand and squeezed it, forcing myself to look at her. Then I snaked my arms gently around her. I gave her limp body a hug and a kiss and left. Noah followed me out after planting a swift kiss on her forehead.

"How could this happen?" I asked before falling into tears in his arms.

**Author's Note.**

Maybe you can tell, this story is coming to a close.


	24. Chapter 24

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twenty Four**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Miley.**

We postponed the wedding for another year after Charlotte died. Her death brought us closer together, united by tragedy and my new granddaughter. Serissa Madeline was able to toddle down the aisle by the time we had our small beach wedding, which was just the way that we wanted it.

She was a loud baby who definitely spoke her mind, but was also generally happy. She also brought joy into our lives, stopping me from sinking into the depression that threatened to overwhelm me those first few weeks. But I had to stay sane for her. She had already lost a mother and a father, I wasn't about to take away her right to know her grandparents too.

Serissa's (technically) uncle (Oliver and Lily's first kid) acted as ring bearer although being only two weeks old he could hardly hold his head up to watch the ceremony let alone keep track of the tiny rings.

Basically, life went on. It wasn't always easy. Actually, a lot of times it was difficult, but we got through it and were more united because of it.

During the first years of our marriage we faded from the world of fame, doing only occasional projects, in favor of starting our family.

First there was Morgan Leora , born exactly nine months after our wedding with startling blue eyes and dark, straight hair. She was always shy and quiet, but fiercely loyal.

\

Kayla Elisabeth was born nearly two years later and was competitive from her early days as an infant. She walked and talked early, not wanting to be left behind while her sister and "niece" grew older.

Three years later Andrey Michael and Apollo David were born, identical twins who bonded quickly against their sisters.

Years past and our children grew. When Andrey and Apollo entered first grade we started working more, taking turns to be on movie sets or on short tours so that at least one parent was always home. It wasn't perfect, not be a long shot, but it worked.

**Author's Note.**

This is all setup for the final epilogue in the next and final chapter.


	25. Chapter 25

**In My Mother's Footsteps: Chapter Twenty Five**

**Disclaimer.**

I do not own Disney, and therefore do not own any of these characters.

**Serissa.**

"Do you have my strawberry lipgloss?" Morgan asked, but before I could respond she was grabbing lipglosses by the fistful out of the makeup box on my dresser.

"No!" I told her, marching over, "put them back!" she dropped the glosses and marched into the bathroom that I had just vacated. I looked at the makeup case and sighed. I always kept my glosses in the large left-hand container in the case's bottom, but when she had dropped them they had fallen everywhere. I put it back – I didn't have time to reorganize now – and pulled out the concealer. As I covered the huge zit on my forehead I looked at the room behind me, reflected in the mirror. The room was almost the size of the entire house, as it was a renovated attic. Because of this the walls only came up about four feet before slanting up to the 8-foot ceiling. Against one wall were three beds, two on opposite walls and one in the center. My bed was on the very right, against the wall leading to the large bathroom. My bed was a decorative trundle with a pink-and-green plaid comforter and a soft cream-colored fleece blanket. Above my bed were pictures that I had taken with my best friends Caroline and Natalie over the years. The next bed was Morgan's full bed, covered in fuzzy purple and blue blankets and pillows. Unlike mine, hers was an unmade mess with crinkled magazines lying on the end. The final bed, against the wall leading to the stairs, was Kayla's dance-themed twin bed. Her cover was a silky pink, with a rose-pattern in a slightly darker pink.

I twisted the cap back on and put it away just as Miley called up, "Breakfast!" Almost instantaneously Morgan darted out of the bathroom, jumped into her pink flats, and bounded down the stairs. Kayla turned slowly, admiring her outfit in the mirror before turning to me. "Let's go!" she said, offering me her tiny hand. I grabbed my backpack and took her hand, shutting off the lights as we left the room.

Down two flights of stairs and around a corner we entered the kitchen, full of the morning light. Morgan was already halfway through her stack of pancakes, racing the twins to see who could finish first. Both boys had barely started and would never catch up in time, although they were trying hard, their identical blonde heads bent in concentration. Kayla and I took seats opposite each other and ate more slowly.

"Do you have your permission slips?" Miley asked the twins, sitting down with her own pancakes. They nodded in unison without a break in their pancake inhaling.

"Good," she said before turning her attention to me, "and how far did you get in your science project last night?"

"I made all of the graphs," I told her, "so I just need to print everything up and put it on the board when I get home from school."

"When is it due?"

"One week." I answered through a mouthful of pancake and syrup.

"Done!" Morgan called out, throwing her hands in the air as sticky syrup dribbled from her lips.

"So now we can act like civilized humans?" Miley asked her. Morgan nodded, wiping her chin with a napkin. "Than I think civilized humans can put away their plates and grab their own lunches."

"One day I'm gonna break my arm," Morgan grumbled jokingly, carrying her plate to the sink, "and then you'll have to clean it up for me."

"And until that day you will not only clear your own place but wipe it down." Miley told her, pointing to the spots of syrup she had left on the shiny oak table. Morgan sighed and wet a paper towel to clean up her spot.

"Remember that I have that extra dance class today, mom." Kayla announced.

"Oh right!" she exclaimed, "Okay well I have to be at the studio until…" she scrolled through her blackberry schedule, "six. And your class is three to seven?" Kayla nodded, "Okay well Charlie will have to drop you off, but I can pick you up afterwards. Is that alright?" Kayla nodded again, her smile faltering a little. A few weeks ago she had confided to me that she always felt ignored. I was oldest, and the granddaughter, so Miley made a special commitment to be there for me so that I didn't feel like I was missing anything by not having a mother. Morgan was, well, Morgan. Loud enough that even if you wanted to ignore her, you couldn't. And the twins were youngest, so they were babied, and were always making some kind of trouble. Kayla spent so much time out of the house, practicing for her dance competitions, that she saw Miley and Noah the least, and normally by the time she was home they were too tired from work, helping Morgan and me with homework, or punishing the twins that they didn't have energy to spend on her. Because of all this, she told me, she cherished her time in the car with them, when there was nothing to do but talk.

"You girls better finish up," Miley warned Kayla and I as the twins cleared their plates, "the bus should be here in ten minutes. I nodded, cutting up my last pancake.

"Daddy!" the twins screamed in unison. Noah had entered from the garage, looking tired in his raggedy sweats, dark circles forming under his eyes. "Hey buds." He said, swinging Andrey in the air. Andrey giggled before hugging his father as Apollo danced around his waist screaming "Me! Me!" Noah kissed Andrey's cheek and placed him on the ground before picking up Apollo and repeating the ritual.

"I swear," he began, resting Apollo on his hip, "I will never sign up for a movie with a night-time shoot ever again."

"You always say that daddy." Kayla told him as she cleared her place, and I followed suite.

"But this time I mean it." He told her.

"Since when is it okay to great your kids but not your wife?" Miley asked jokingly, kissing him on the cheek.

"You know I love you more than life itself." He whispered, kissing her back.

"Eww!" everyone but me chorused.

"Oh sha," Miley told them, breaking the embrace. "You should be glad your father and I still love eachother."

"Yeah that's great," Morgan told her, "but we don't have to see it." Miley smirked and walked over to the refrigerator. She hugged each of us, handed us our lunch bags, and sent us off to school. I was last in line.

"I love you honey," she whispered, squeezing me a little tighter than she had the others.

"I love you too, Grandma." I told her.

"What did I say about calling me that?" she asked, laughing as she handed me my lunch.

"But you're my grandmother!" I argued.

"I am too young to be anyone's Grandma." She told me, "Now go before you miss the bus."

"Love you!" I called, running for the door.

**Author's Note.**

The End.


End file.
